


David’s revenge

by Fragile_Porcelain



Category: Red vs. Blue, Rooster Teeth
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Biting, Bottom Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue), Broken Agent Washington, Dead Friends, Declarations Of Love, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Lovers, M/M, Military Training, Poor Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue), Possessive Behavior, Prison, Project Freelancer, Recovery One, Red vs. Blue References, Revenge, Season 6: Reconstruction, Season 7: Recreation, Season 8: The Recollection Revelation, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Trust Issues, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fragile_Porcelain/pseuds/Fragile_Porcelain
Summary: Wash didn’t say anything as he drove them back to Valhalla. He had found a jeep in the hanger. The soldiers were so distracted by the Red’s steeling their plane, that the blue slipped away without anyone noticing them. Caboose was once more complaining about having to pee, even though they had pulled over seven minutes ago. In the passenger seat, Tucker sat rather stoically silent. Wash wondered what he was thinking about, but he couldn’t get the gumption to ask. Instead he turned his attention to the fact that Michael was gone. Officially gone. But David had to keep reminding himself; that thing wasn’t Michael. Michael was dead, killed by the Meta and now the Meta was dead.Dying along with David’s revenge.





	1. More than casual

The water was hot as it ran down his face, over his shoulders and slid down his back. It soaked into his bruised skin and eased his aching muscles. Standing under the water, his head resting on the cold steel shower tile, David wondered if he was really cut out for this. He had been positioned against Carolina in training, and she had beat him badly. Very badly. The others had watched, amused. He basically had to crawl out of the arena. The others patted his shoulder, sympathetically. He tried not to hiss in pain at the light contact. 

Wash waited until all the others were out of the locker room before he stripped of his suit. He didn’t want them to see just how badly he was injured. He threw several broken pieces of his armor in the pin. It was the third time in a month had gotten his ass handed to him. Everyone was so hell bent on making the Director’s top ten list, they had been training extra hard. Which means, he had been getting his ass kicked, repeatedly. At this point, he had more bruises than skin.

The large hands on his back drew him from his thoughts. It ran along his shoulder, damn his back, finally resting on his hips. He taller man’s body was a heavy weight against him. The hot water washed over them, as they stood in a comfortable silence. Michael’s arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly. David allowed himself to lean into the man’s embrace. He didn’t always, not wanting to seem needy, but in that moment, David didn’t care. He was tired, in pain, and just wanted to soak up the feeling of the man’s skin against his. 

The first time they had fooled around in the showers, David had been so embarrassed. It had been a quick jack off session, the water washing away any evidence of what they had done. They both exited quickly, not a since word shared between them. Sometimes it was still like that, if they didn’t have a lot of time, or they knew others would be entering to interrupt them. 

But, after the day he had just had, David didn’t care. It wasn’t like it was a secret. Almost every member of Project Freelancer had walked in on them in a ‘compromising’ position. David would always to be embarrassed. Michael would just smile, smugly. Now, he let the other man’s hands wonder along his body. The military grade industrial soup had a sterile, unwelcoming smell, but it soothed his skin as the other lathered it over every inch of him. 

“Are you hurt?” The taller man asked. His tone was hoarse. His deep baritone voice rattling in the small space between them. David shrugged. He didn’t want to think about training, he had better thing on his mind. 

“I’ll survive.” David ran his hand through the man’s short, buzzed hair. He loved the feeling of it between his fingers. His body shuttered as the man’s hand wrapped around his length. Wash moaned, arching into the man’s slow strokes. He hissed in pain/pleasure as the man worried a bruise into his neck. The marks he left behind would last for days. They joined the ones from yesterday and the day before that and the day before that.

“I’m the only that get to leave marks on you.” Michael said, possessively. “I want to hurt her, for the way she treated you… The way she touched you.” 

“It was just training,” Wash clarified. 

They had been over this before. The first time was when Wash had been sparring with York. The gold armored man had handed a sucker punch in the gap of Wash’s armor. The bruise left behind had covered most of his stomach. When Michael saw it, Wash had to physically hold him back so he didn’t break from the room and kill York. It didn’t seem to matter who he trained with, if Wash ended up with a single bruise, Michael would get upset. 

“I don’t care.” Mike grumbled in his ear, nipping at the shell. He wound his large hand around Wash’s neck. He didn’t squeeze, or add any pressure. He just rested it there. David was sure it was a possessive thing, like the hickeys. But it didn’t matter. David loved it. He moaned as the man’s other hand worked him quicker. 

“Mikey. Please!” Wash moaned. With every motion, he grew closer to completion. The man only matched his sound, still working bruises on his neck, and shoulder. “Michael. Please. So close… Mike… Babe… Maine! PLEASE!” David babbled. 

“Now.” Michael ordered. He tightened the hand around the man’s throat, just a bit. 

Wash’s body tightened, almost painfully so. His tired muscles pulling to the point of almost snapping. Michael worked him slowly, painting white the wall before them. Finally, David’s body faltered. He would have fallen, if it wasn’t for the strong arms holding him. Michael pinned him to the wall, capturing his lips. 

“Fuck. That was…” Wash pulled away breathy. Michael hummed in agreement, resting their foreheads together. They didn’t need to say anything. 

“The water is getting cold.” Mike indicated, finally pulling away. Wash, his body tired, slid down the wall. His wobbly legs unable to support him. The locker room was quiet as the shower shut off. David looked around, half asleep. He groaned as the man pulled him to his feet. 

“Mikey!” He yelped when Michael pulled him off his feet and into his arms like a bride. Mike only smirked. He carried him across the room, lowering him to the bench. He set to drying the smaller man off, his large hand delicately light. Yet, Wash hissed in pain as the towel brushed over the bruise on his thigh. 

“Infirmary?” Michael asked, unable to hide the worry on his expressive face. 

“No. I don’t think it’s broken. It’s be fine…. I’m fine.” Mike didn’t look convinced. He pulled the other man in for a kiss, hoping to distract him. It worked. Within seconds, Wash was lying across the bench, Mike hovering over him. 

“…. And I just thought…. JESUS CHRIST!” York yelled. He quickly dived behind one of the lockers. He stopped North beside him, so he wasn’t haunted by the sight. “Maine! Wash! Where the fuck are your clothes?!” He stayed back, allowing the two privacy. He wished this was the first time. But it was surprisingly common occurrence. 

“Sorry guys.” Wash said, pushing the man from atop him. Michael groaned, annoyed, but went willingly. He didn’t like the idea of other people seeing Wash naked. Wash was his. So, he stood beside the man, blocking him from the view as he changed. 

“Maine! Clothes!” York ordered as he peeked around to check if the cost was clear. Maine smirked. 

“You’re just Jealous.” Maine stated as he moved to his own space, several lockers away. Wash smacked his ass as he went, filling the room with the cry of skin on skin. Wash smiled at Maine’s smile. 

“You two are horrible humans.” North rolled his eyes, not moving until Maine was dressed. 

They exited the locker room, smirking at the two other men. York and North rolled their eyes. Mike followed him to his quarters, their hand brushing past one another the whole time. David wasn’t surprised. They had agreed, for this thing between them to be ‘casual’. 

At first it had been. Just jacking off in the shower, or the occasional late night fuck after a frustrating day. For the last three weeks, casual had been every night. But it was not just about the sex. Some night, Michael would come to David’s room and just curl around the smaller man. David didn't know if he had ever slept better than with the man's arms around him. 

Now, David opened the doors, and Michael basically pushed him into the room. He pinned the smaller man to the closed door. Attacking his lips. David nipped and sucked at the tongue that pushed into his mouth. He moaned as his slipped past the other. 

“Please.” Wash begged when they finally pulled apart for air. He didn’t need to say more. Mike lifted him with strong hands under his thighs. David tightened his legs around the other man’s waist. His arms around the man’s neck. Michael hummed, amused as they kissed once more. David loved that Michael could hold him so. 

David was a large man, fit and tall. But Michael, he was huge. His biceps were as large as David’s thighs. He stood a head and a half taller than the man he held. He lifted David like he was as light as a feather. David didn’t know if he could ever get over the way it felt to be held in the man’s arms. 

“Mikey!” David laughed, as the larger man walked them across the room. They fell together onto the small bed. David tried to hide the flash of pain, as Michael put pressure on his bruised thigh. He must not have succeeded. 

“Are you okay?” Michael pulled away. Wash grabbed for him. Trying to regain the connection they had been sharing. 

“Stop worrying about me. I’m fine.” David pulled to him. He smiled. Mike did not. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. Mikey, come on.” He wrapped his legs around the other man, pulling him close. Mike hesitated before towering other the smaller man. Their kiss was slow, passionate. Mike hiked David’s none injured leg up, changing their position so their hardness brushed together. They both moaned. 

“Mikey.” He need more. It wouldn’t take much. Mike had fucked him that morning, before training. He had come, panting over David, both their hearts racing. But he hadn’t let David cum, he wanted David to be on edge, alert at trained. Mike thought it would help the other, it hadn’t. Now, he regretted it. 

He kissed down the man’s torso. He sucked a bruise into the smaller man’s pictorial. Biting harder when Wash moaned and threaded his hand into Mike’s hair. He moved down further, sucking a bruise just above his belly button. David whimpered. Tomorrow, he would be covered in so many bruises. Bruises Michael left on him. He loved the smirk the other man gave him as they trained. Like he got a rush knowing that his teeth marks were under Wash’s armor. It made David happy also, knowing that Maine had been the one to leave behind the marks. 

“Jesus, MikeY!” David cried. His hand in the man’s hair. Michael smirked. David sucked in a breath as Michael took him downh. He sucked, bringing David back to full hardness. Reluctantly, David pushed the other man away, he was already to close. 

“Babe,” David’s voice was shaky as he calmed. Mike smirked. Watching David’s chest rise and fall was one of Michael’s favorite things. But he turned his attention to the large bruise on his leg. Michael kept his lips light as he kissed the discolored skin. 

“Babe?” Wash questioned, confused. 

“You shouldn’t go on the mission tomorrow.” 

“What? I’m not going to stay behind. It’s nothing. I’m not going to leave you… and the others a man down. I’ll be fine.” Mike looked less then convinced. “We have to be up early. So, are you going to fuck me… or not? Because I could go get York, or North…” Mike’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe Wyoming. I think his mustache is kinda hot…” Wash joked, laughing. His sentence cut short as Mike attacked his lips.

“So, is that a yes? Or do I need to go get one of the others?” Wash asked, once they pulled apart. 

“Mine.” Mike growled, possessively. He grabbed the lube from where it sat at the bedside table. Wash smirked. Sometimes, he needed to get the man riled up to get what he wanted. 

There was something about the feeling of the other man inside him. It consumed him, filled him and David swore he could fly. The slow glide of the man’s dick inside him, nailing his prostate over and over again. David couldn’t breathe. He only had one thought in his mind. Michael. 

“Do you want to cum?” Michael asked. His voice even more ragged then normal. David found it hot. He had come many times just listening to the man describe what he wanted to do to David's pale skin. 

“Please, Mikey.” David begged. Maine smiled his possessive smile, picking up his pace. His strong arms shifting their position. He forced himself deeper into the other. David moaned. Michael smirked. He balanced himself on one arm, shifting his hand to tug lightly at the smaller man's hard cock. Three quick motions, and David was coming. 

Wash didn't know if he had ever had such an intense orgasm in his life. Michael’s touches were soft and reassuring as David floated back to earth. He could tell from the way Michael shook that he had also cum. Now, they rocked together, slowly coming down. 

Michael licked David’s cum off his stomach. They both moaned. It was hot, but they couldn’t get hard again so quickly. Instead, David pulled the other into a kiss. He could taste himself on the man’s tongue as it pushed into his mouth. He moaned, pulling away to catch his breath. 

"I love you." The words passed David’s lips without permission. He lay frozen with the man looming above him. He half expected the man to up and leave. Never in his wildest dreams did Wash expect to hear the words that passed the other man’s lips. 

"I love you, too." Mike captured his lips in a deep kiss. Wash couldn’t think of a more perfect moment in his life.


	2. Project Freelancer

The mission might have succeeded, but not in Wash's mind. They had recovered the target, but Maine had gotten hurt. Badly. Wash held tightly to his hand as they wheeled him through the infirmary.

"It's going to be alright Mikey. Just stay with us... Stay with me." 

"Agent! You have to wait here!" The nurse tried pushing Wash from the bedside. She was no match for him.

"No! I have to stay with him!" David pushed past her. It took three nurses, York and North to finally separate David from the bedside. 

"Michael!" Wash watched the bed as it faded down the hallway. He didn't stop fighting the hands holding him until Maine was gone from sight.

"Don't worry, Wash. He'll be fine." York patted his shoulder. 

"Why don't you get looked at?" David looked at the man confused. North pointed to the darkened path on his gray armor. He hadn't noticed the blood until that moment. He didn't feel the pain. He didn't feel anything. 

"You're no good to Maine if you’re dead. Come on." North and York led him to an exam room. Wash's legs wobbling as he walked. 

Michael was in surgery for hours. North and York stayed for a time. But eventually they left. The other freelancers filed through the waiting room also. They would sit beside him, patting his shoulder in condolences. But eventually they would leave also. David never strayed. 

For hours, he paced the waiting room. He ignored the Director's order to report when it was his turn for debriefing. He didn't think he could talk about it, not without breaking down. The Director wouldn't be happy about that. So, he stayed. 

No matter what, he couldn't leave, not without knowing that Mike was alright. It was after midnight when York and North brought him food. He wasn't hungry. He was too worried, fear knotting his stomach. He paid no attention to the worried look on his friend's face. 

"You can't help him now. It's up to the doctors. But he's going to need you. You gotta eat." North rested a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. David sighed. He knew York was right. David ate quickly. For not being hungry, the food was gone in moments. York and North smirked. 

Maine was in surgery for thirty hours. Wash paced, unsleeping. He didn't even stop to change his armor. Fear that if he stopped moving, the world would crash down around him. The doctor looked grim as he approached. A cold hand gripped David’s heart. Had had seen the blood dripping from Maine's suit. The doctor was coming to tell him Michael was dead and he was alone. 

"He's not dead." The doctor spoke up quickly. He would see the fear in the agent's eyes. "But he might wish he was." 

They used hundreds of stitches to put the man back together. He would need weeks of physical therapy to get back on his feet. Even more it you wanted to get back into a suit of armor. Michael’s vocal cords had been severed and David would never get to hear his voice again. But all of that depended on if he would even come out of his coma. Maine was alive, but only barely. 

David cried when they finally let him see the other. There was only a few pieces of skin that wasn't covered in cuts or bruises. The intubation tube protruding from him mouth looked unnatural. His breathing was rhythmic, perfect as the machine kept him alive. David held tightly to his hand. He seated himself beside the bed, crying himself to sleep with the other man's cold hand in his. 

David stayed beside him for days. Twice a day, York, North or one of the others would bring him food, clothes, or anything they thought he might need. David didn't always eat the food. He showered briefly, fearing that Mike would wake while he was gone. He didn't read any of the material that they brought him. He ignored the Director's orders, choosing instead to simple apply for leave.

According to North and York, it took some convincing, but they finally got the Director to agree to one week of medical leave. Wash thanked them for their help, and then asked them to leave. Reluctantly, they exited the hospital room. Wash spent most of his days just watching the other man sleep. Mike looked tired, even though he had been sleeping for so long. 

David wondered if he ever appeared in the other man's dreams. All his dreams over the last days revolved around the other man. Some were good dreams. Them lying together in their small bed. Talking and joking like they once had. David remembered how warm the other man was around him, even as he woke into the harsh, dark reality of the hospital room.

As the days ticked away, and Michael showed no sign of improving, David's dreams turned dark. He would attend his lover's funeral. He would stand beside the man's cold, pale body. Mike would be dead and David was alone. It had become common for him to wake with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

David sat scrunched in the chair beside the bed, dreaming. It was a good dream. Mike loomed over him. Their bodies pressed together. Mike was inside him, thrusting slowly. Their eyes were locked, saying more than words ever could. It wasn't just sex, it was love. Michael loved him. He loved Michael. 

But David woke with a start when the hand is his pulled away. He shot up in the chair, trying to get their connection back. It took him several seconds to realize that Mike was awake, and pulling at the tubes in his throat. 

"Mikey, stop. Babe, you gotta stop." David ordered. He lightly pulled the man's hand away. He could see the confusion and fear on the broken face. 

"It's okay. Alright. Just breathe normally." David separated just long enough to hit the call button on the side of the bed. An instant later he was back with the other man, holding his hands light. 

"It's okay. You're going to be okay." David gave the other man a watery smile. 

The doctors were in the room seconds later. They quickly had the tubes from inside the man. David rubbed his back when he toppled forward, coughing up clear fluid. He kept his hand in Michael’s the whole time, rubbing his thumb along his bruised knuckles. Mike opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a growling noise. Maine looked to his lover with fear. 

"Don't talk, Babe. Here." Wash handed him the tablet. Until they found a better form of communication, writing would have to do. Maine looked at him confused. "There was a shot... your neck... I... you're. You won't be able to talk." David tried not so show how really upset he was. The look on Mike’s face told him it wasn't successful. Mike quickly jotted something on the table. 

"Ever?" He questioned, his handwriting barely legible. David gave him a sad smile. He leaned over and kissed the man's forehead lightly. 

Michael stayed in the hospital for a month. David went to him, when he could. After his week was up for medical leave, the Director ordered him back to work. Wash was reluctant but grateful. Each day Michael became harder to handle. He spent most days on heavy pain medication in and out of consciousness. When he was awake, it was common for him to get frustrated and throw things. David knew the man had a temper, but he was having a hard time controlling the large man. 

So, when Wash was ordered back to duty, he was grateful for the excuse to leave. He hated himself for needing the out. He knew that he should be with the man that he loved, but he couldn’t handle being around him. He would stop by the hospital, after his training was done. Sometimes Michael was awake, sometimes he was asleep. Either way, David was the one that had to carry the conversation. He would tell Michael about his day, about something stupid North and York had done. 

Mikey would smile if he was wake. He would hold David’s hand tightly, not wanting him to leave. Most nights David would sleep in the chair beside him, their hands together. But by morning something would set off Mike, and Wash would be happy to break from his company. But each time he left he would kiss the other man. 

"I have to go. But know that I love you." 

It was a Wednesday. David had gotten out of training early. He changed into his civies and grabbed some food at the mess. He was happy as he entered the room. That morning Mikey hadn't wanted him to go. He had held extra tightly to his hand. There was a look in his eyes, that David didn’t recognize. But David had to go. 

“I’ll be back soon. I promise.” David smiled and kissed him. ‘Soon’ had arrived faster than he expected and he was excited to see Mike's reaction. 

The man had always had the most expressive face, it had only become more so after the accident. But David’s smile faded as he entered the hospital room. Michael sat on the bed. His face blank. There was no emotion visible. He sat stock straight up in the bed. His eyes were empty, hollow as he just sat there. 

“Mikey, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Wash sat beside him, looking confused. “Mikey?” But a moment later the flaming figure appeared beside the man’s shoulder. 

“I am Sigma. I have been assigned to Agent Maine.” 

“Sigma. You were assigned to Carolina?” 

“Agent Carolina given me to Agent Maine, to hopes of allowing easier communication.” 

“Oh… Well. How is he feeling?” David shook his head, turning the attention from the glowing figure to the man. “Mikey, how are you feeling?” But the other man only growled at him. It was not the normal response he expected. “Hey, tell me what’s wrong.” Wash handed him the table. Mike sent it flying across the room. David sighed, it was the third time this week. 

“I believe that Agent Maine is not in the mood for conversation.” Sigma informed him quickly. David sighed. He stayed sitting for a long time. He didn’t talk, they just sat together. Maine didn’t move. He stared blankly at the wall. David took his hand, only to have Michael pull away. David sighed. 

“I have to go. But know that I love you." David moved to kiss the other man, Michael pulled away. With a heavy heart, David exited the room. The addition of an AI could take some getting used to, for everyone. Michael would be back to normal in no time. David assured himself. 

But Michael never got better. 

Michael didn’t pay any attention to the man that seated himself beside the bed. He no longer smiled, laughter or showed any emotion in general. His eyes never left the ceiling or the empty wall. David sat beside him in silence. Just watching him. His heart hurt at seeing the men he loved drift away. But each night after training, he would return to the bedside. When he left, he would have kissed the other man goodbye, promising to see his again soon. Sometimes Mike wouldn’t pull away, put most of the time he did. 

Michael’s rehabilitation took less time than the doctor’s estimated. Everyone thought it has something to do with the AI, but David knew that it was just Michael. He was the strongest man David had ever met. David had tried to help, during Michael’s physical therapy sessions, but Sigma insisted that Maine didn’t want him there. Reluctantly, David stopped showing up. 

It only took five weeks for Michael to be back in his armor.

It got to the point that David only got to see the other man during training session. Each night, for weeks, he would go to Michael’s quarters, hoping to see him. But the other man would never answer his door. David would stand for hours waiting before finally returning to his own. His small room seemed empty without the other. The small bed seemed like too much space without Michael’s body beside him. David tried not to feel sad, but he knew he was losing the other man. 

The change in Michael wasn’t subtle. During their meetings, Sigma did all the talking for him. It was almost like the AI was taking over. Everyone noticed it. They came to Wash for answers, but he could only shrug in reply. It had been months since they had been together. Months since he had felt the touch of the other man. It was a sad reality but the man he loved was disappearing. He was turning into something else. 

Even when David was implanted with the Epsilon AI, and spent weeks in the hospital, Michael didn’t show up. Everyone else in the Program had come to see him. Even Tex. But each time he drifted back to consciousness, he looked for one face. But Mike was never there. 

“Did he...?” Wash asked as he awoke again. York was by his side. He gave David a light smile. 

“He’ll come around. I’m sure of it.” David gave a light smile. 

David’s heart sank as he stood before the council. He was broken. He knew he was. After Epsilon… after everything. He could only wish that the other man would be there. But it was just a wish made by a sad man. As David was certified Article Twelve, and pulled from duty, Michael wasn’t there. David stood before the council, alone.


	3. Recovery one

“Were you thinking about Epsilon again, Agent Washington?” The Counselor asked. Nothing but a face on the screen.

 

“No.” Wash lied. He spent a lot of his free time thinking about Epsilon. When it wasn’t Epsilon, it was Michael.

 

“What happened with Epsilon was not your fault, Agent Washington.”

 

“I didn't think it was.” Wash lied. He wondered if he went crazy because of the AI, or if the AI went crazy because of him.

 

“We have safeguards for the unstable emotional patterns of an artificial intelligence. Sometimes these algorithms fail.”

 

“Oh. So, then it's your fault.” Wash snarked.

 

“We prefer to think of it as no one's fault.”

 

“Really.” Wash rolled his eyes.

 

“Just a possible, but rare, unfortunate outcome.”

 

“How convenient.”

 

“Are you having new feelings about the incident?” The Councilor asked.

 

“No. Just the same old feelings. You know, that I had another person in my head, and I got to experience first-hand as their mind unraveled while mixed with my own. That I still have trouble distinguishing between its disintegrating thoughts and mine…. You know, the usual.”

 

“What about the hostility from other agents who lost out on assignments once we suspended the use of implants?”

 

“What about them? Am I supposed to feel bad for them, or something?”

 

“Do you think you could work with an A.I. or another agent ever again?”

 

“...No, I don't.” Wash shrugged.

 

“Good. Then we have a job for you.” Wash didn’t like the way the other man looked at him through the screen.

 

<><><><><><><><><> 

 

 “Recovery One, this is Command, we have a level one distress signal, immediate response necessary.” The woman’s voice called over the radio.

 

“I just wrapped that up, Command. I'm headed home.” Wash sighed. He had just stood beside one of his best friend’s body. York had been there for him after Michael, after Epsilon. But like everyone else, York had left. He and North had followed Tex, to find the Alpha. Wash just wanted to get back to base. He was tired.

 

“Negative, Recovery One, this is a new signal.”

 

“That's the fifth one this month.” Wash didn’t know what was happening, but the Freelancers were being targeted.

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“Alright, send me the coordinates.” He sighed as he jumped into the jeep. “I'm on my way.” He sighed.

 

It was just another day in the life of Agent Washington.

 

<><><><><><><><><> 

 

“Agent Washington's experience with the Epsilon program makes him a primary candidate for recovery.” Delta explained. Wash had just destroyed North’s body and faked South’s death. Wash was getting tired of seeing his friend’s dead or dying. He had never really liked South, but she was important North, and North was important to him. So, he stomached her. Now, without North, Wash didn’t care if she lived or died.

 

“Epsilon? Epsilon went insane and killed itself inside his head! And from what I heard from the other recruits, he went nuts himself. Weren't you certified Article Twelve after that? Unfit for duty.” South replied. She didn’t really like Wash.

 

“The people who certified me were the same people that uncertified me. Which, once they needed me, they did. Funny how the system works.”

 

“In either case, he is the logical choice. It is highly unlikely Wash would attempt to steal an AI for his own purposes.”

 

“Every Freelancer I've seen in the last four weeks has had three things in common: their AI was missing… But Delta here was left somehow; I think that was a fluke.” Wash had been wondering what was going on.

 

“My assignee was killed in an unrelated firefight.” Delta explained. Wash didn’t want to think about it.

 

“The agents were also dead, but for some reason you were left alive. And I wanna know, why that is.” He hurried the conversation along away.

 

“You said three things. What's the third one?”

 

“During training, what enhancement did you get?”

 

“My armor enhancement? I can make a domed energy shield. Why?”

 

“Can you do it now?”

 

“Sure.” There was a long silence as they waited for the bubble shield to appear. It never did. “I h… wait a second…”

 

“The third thing they all had in common was that their enhancement was removed.” The small green one indicated.

 

“Just like yours. The Freelancers are being killed, South. And someone, or something, is stealing their A.I. and enhancements.” Wash didn’t know what was happening, but something was killing the people that had once mean so much to him.

 

“And now Agent Washington is trying to escort us back to headquarters as quickly as possible…”

 

“No. I'm not.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“We don't need to. I've been following the trail of this _thing_ for a while now. But once I got you, Delta, that changed. Now, we're the ones being followed. South being left alive was nothing more than bait to slow me down. This thing has already killed four different Freelancers, South.”

 

“All agents with higher battle ratings than Wash.” Delta reminded them.

 

“Yes, thank you for pointing that out Delta.” Wash rolled his eyes. “I'm not going to be able to take it out by myself. Someone has to help me, protect Delta as well.”

 

“I see now. That is why you want me to implant in South.”

 

“Excuse me? In who?” South questioned.

 

“The only way to properly protect me in combat is to integrate me in to your armor. Agent Washington will not allow me to do that.

 

“And somebody has to.”

 

“I can't… a… I haven't been rated for implantation.”

 

“Well, make up your mind quickly. _It's_ here.”

 

“My motion sensors…” Delta asked, his voice raising in confusion.

 

“Are going to be useless. South, get Delta in your head now, and flank left. We have to stand against this thing here… Now…” Wash fell silent as the rocked sailed over his head. The wall behind them shattered into pieces.

 

“Move!” Wash ordered. He was quickly away, hoping to draw the fire away from South and Delta. “South, I need you out here now!” Wash ordered, as another rocket landed dangerously close to him.

 

“I'm on my way!” She shouted. South was quickly to him, just as another rocket landed dangerously close.

 

“Wash, I'm here.” South’s voice sounded wrong, pained.

 

“Good, I need help on the left. This guy moves fast, so keep your eyes open.” Wash had only seen a quick glimpse of him. “South, you okay?”

 

“She is experiencing difficulty with my presence.” Delta indicated.

 

“How difficult?” Wash asked, returning fire.

 

“Patient has trouble…”

 

“I'm fine! Let's get this guy.” South raised her gun, making a groaning sound.

 

“No.”

 

“No?” South question confused.

 

“See that ship?” Wash motioned to the purple vehicle on a nearby ramp. “You get to it and take off. Get yourself, and more importantly, Delta back to base. I'll cover you as best I can.”

 

“Wash, is your armor adequately compensating for your wounds?” Delta asked

 

“You're hit?”

 

“Just twice, I'm fine.” Wash brushed it off. He didn’t feel pain much anymore.  “Movement on two. On my mark: sync.” Wash ordered.

 

“But…” South questioned.

 

“Sync!” Wash ordered again.

 

“Sync!”

 

“Move!” Wash ordered. He moved, hoping to get provide adequate cover for South. But he didn’t get more than one step. He screamed in pain, as he tumbled off the ramp. The close range the shot had been taken did significant damage to his armor.

 

“Alarm! Friendly target, cease fire!” Delta ordered, his color changes to red, then a dark purple.

 

“Calm down, just stacking the deck in our favor.” South hesitated, waiting for a break in the enemy’s fire. She stood before the tall figure.

 

“Listen to what I'm about to say, because you have a choice. Wash is dead. I put a timed charge on his body. So, if you want his equipment you'd better get it, now. Or, you can come after us, and lose it for sure. So, what's it going to be? Chase us in hopes of beating us? Or go for the sure thing, and find us another day.” South offered her compromise. Before her the figure in white growled, heading towards the gap where Wash had fallen.

 

“Smart move.” South said, snarky. She headed to the plane.

 

Wash waited for death to take him. For some reason, he wasn’t surprised. He never trusted South. But he never should have let her take Delta. At the time, he thought it was the best option he had. Now, as he lay dying, he realizes he we wrong. The large shadow that fell over him, caught his attention. He focused his tired eyes, and his heart stopped. He knew the tall figure that looked over him.

 

“Mikey?” Wash asked, but his words died away. He must be dreaming, they had told him Maine had died, going off the cliff with Carolina, both killed by Tex. Yes. Michael was as gone. Wash was just imagining it. Wash allowed the pain to overtake him and he faded into blackness.


	4. Reconstruction

“So, you would say that you have overwhelming feelings of anger and a need for revenge?” the Counselor monotone voice asked.

 

This was Wash’s first mission back since the South/Delta incident. He woke in the hospital a week later. Files indicated that South was a Rouge Agent. The thing that had been attacking them was called ‘The Meta’. Wash didn’t want to believe them when they told his who it was. But the evidence was there.

 

Wash tried not to be sad. It had been years. Years of him alone. He had lost Michael. The man had become the Meta; a power hungry, AI seeking shadow of the man he once had been. It was painful to watch. But there was nothing Wash could do to stop him. He had tried, and gotten shot in the back (literally). The man he loved as gone. Dead. Just like Wash’s love. Michael had taken it, and the Meta had destroyed it. Now it was just Wash, on his own.

 

“More than you know.”

 

“Excellent. Now that our agency is under investigation, the Director feel it is important for us to be as open as possible with each other. If our suspicions are correct, the Meta has made another addition, the Omega AI.”

 

“It was Omega and Tex, right?”  Wash was losing track of who had which AI.

 

“Yes, it was.”

 

“The Meta doesn’t leave much behind. It’s going to be hard to track.” Shortly after Maine went rouge, stealing the AI from the others that they stopped refusing to him as a gender, they stuck with ‘it’ instead. Wash died a little more inside each time he thought about all that the other had done.

 

“We think the best place for you to start would be the omega’s last known location. The soldiers there have the most experience with our program.”

 

“I see. So, I should contact these experts…”

 

“We do not like the term ‘experts’.”

 

“Because no one really knows what our program is doing?”

 

“Let’s just say the term ‘expert’ is a little too… complimentary in this particular case. This is a kill on sight mission, Agent Washington.”

 

“Understood.”

 

“Do you think you can handle that?” The man on the computer screen questioned. He looked less than convinced.

 

“Yes, Sir.” Wash wasn’t lying. He wanted revenge. He wants to kill the thing that look away the man he loved.

 

“Very well. Eliminate the target, retrieve the AI. Do you still have your old suit of armor?”

 

“Of course… wait… why?” But the Counselor didn’t answer. Wash got his orders and was quickly away. A mission would distract him.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

Outpost A-1 might have been more then Wash could handle. The weird yellow person was annoying, and the red solider was… Insane. He was most then happy to leave. He didn’t understand how the blues were willing to hand over Caboose so willingly. But it quickly became apparent. He looked confused at Church, 14 months on his own. He should have gone crazy… but then against he might have.

 

“They want you to stop the Meta at all costs. This is a level one directive. Good Luck, Wash. Recovery command out.”

 

“Recovery one out.” Wash sighed. He didn’t need to be reminded how important it was to stop the Meta. Of all the people in the Freelancer program, Wash knew the importance of ending the man’s reign.

 

“What was that?” Church asked as they stood beside the crashed ship. The beeping silenced as Wash waited for orders.

 

“That was my recovery beacon. That means an AI somewhere is in jeopardy, I have to find it… before something else does.”

 

“Coordinates locked, transmitting now.”

 

“Receiving coordinates for recovery target. Do we have an ID?”

 

“Affirmative. It is from the AI Delta and…”

 

“Agent South.” Wash already knew.

 

“Roger that. Agent South Dakota. Vital reports look bad. Yeah, she’s in trouble Wash.”

 

“Yes. Yes, she is.” Wash didn’t hide the bitterness in his voice. He was quickly on a mongoose. The other two followed his lead. The soldiers looked after them confused, as they headed after South.

 

“There they are! Don’t let it get near her. And don’t let her get away.” Wash ordered as he jumped from the vehicle. It ran right into Maine, but he didn’t notice.

 

“Her? Is she a freelancer like you?”

 

“Yeah, just don’t let her leave!” Wash ordered, he quickly took up fire, but Maine seemed unfazed. He threw a grenade, but it fell over the man’s tall head. “Damn. It’s gone invisible. Keep an eye on your motion trackers, and watch your perimeters. Look for a shimmer.”

 

“It can turn invisible? What is this thing?” Wash ground his teeth. He wasn’t a thing. But it would be better if they didn’t know. They would trust him if they know Maine was a freelancer. Even less so if they knew the relationship the two men shared. Reluctantly, Wash went with it.

 

“It takes the equipment of other freelancers. It must have picked up cloaking from Tex.”

 

“Wait a second, any equipment?”

 

“YES. WHY?” Wash was tired of the blues already.

 

“Shit, Wyoming. Cover me.” Church ordered, jumping over the wall.

 

“What? Wyoming?” _Wasn’t Wyoming dead?_ “Caboose, cover him. Grab those spike grenades.”

 

“No, don’t let Caboose help me.”

 

“There it is!” Wash called. His heart skipped a beat. Michael in his armor had always turned him on, now was no different. Seeing that the larger man wasn’t firing at him, David could get a good look at him.

 

“Hey! How about a little help out here?” Church called. Wash snapped back to reality. Maine was the Meta, a bad guy. Even if he was still hot.

 

“On it. Caboose, toss that grenade.” Wash chucked his grenade over the wall, not looking where it landed. His attention taking by the spike grenade that embed itself in the wall, only feet from him. “That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.”

 

“Not my fault. Someone put a wall in my way.” Caboose argued. Wash sighed. He quickly grabbed the other, jumping over the wall.

 

“What? Where did he... it go? What happened?” Wash asked confused. One second Maine was on the rock, 100 yards away. The next second he was gone. David’s heart sank, just a little.

 

“You don’t remember? It threw a grenade that landed in between us. But don’t worry, I save you.” Caboose lied. Wash rolled his eyes.

 

“It uses Agent Wyoming’s stupid time thing from the ship.” Church gave a real answer. “What’s wrong with you?” Wash didn’t have the time to answer that question. “Why didn’t you tell us it could use equipment?”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me that Wyoming was on the ship?”

 

“And why didn’t someone give me something to yell about?” Wash was going to answer, or melee Caboose in the face. But South’s groan in agony caught his attention.

 

“Well, why didn’t it kill us then?” Wash asked.

 

South lay feet away, slowly dying. Wash didn’t feel bad about it. It was only fair. The small green figure appeared beside Caboose’s head. But Wash still worried, in the back of his mind, he wondered why the Meta hadn’t killed him. He had more than adequate time. A spark flickered in Wash’s heart. _Maybe Michael remembered me?_

 

“I’m sorry, but I do not have enough data to formulate an answer. I think we should simple be happy it is gone.” They debated their next steps quickly. The idea that the Meta was hurt worried Wash. He still hated the idea of Michael being in pain. But he didn’t let it show.

 

"I can’t…. I can’t walk on my own.” South said, wobbly on her feet.

 

“Well, I guess you’d better start crawling." Wash felt no sympathy for her, especially after everything she had done. “If you think I’m leaving you here to escape, you’ve got another thing coming…”

 

“Agent Washington, if I may. Before you arrived, South attempted to turn me over to the Meta to save herself.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Much like she wounded you to escape in our previous encounter with it.” Michael hadn’t hurt him this time or the last. It bothered Wash why. “And as I have learned in our travels, her brother North suffered a similar fate.” Wash found it easy to hate the purple woman before him.

 

“What a team player.” Wash’s voice was riddled with sarcasm.

 

“It’s highly probable that she will turn on us again soon. And in her current physical state, she will only hamper progress.”

 

“What are you suggesting?”

 

“That we do not allow her to hamper our progress.” Delta said flatly.

 

“Okay.” Wash didn’t even think as he drew his gun.

 

“Oh, come on, Wash. What are you going to do, shoot…?” But South didn’t get to finish her sentence. Wash squeezed the trigger and South crumbled.

 

“Yes, good suggestion.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“Dude, you guys are some cold motherfuckers.” Church chimed in.

 

“Okay, I have a great idea. Let’s all put down our guns and not shoot anyone’s else that we’re trying to help.”

 

“Relax.”

 

“Exactly. Let’s all relax.” Wash rolled his eyes.

 

“Agent South has already shot me in the back once before. And she tried to give up Delta to the enemy.” He hated the Michael was defined as such a title.  “I wasn’t going to wait around to see if she decided to do it again.”

 

“Right. Okay, sure.”

 

“Stop talking to me like that!” Wash snapped. The others didn’t understand. No one understood.

 

“We’re not talking to you like anything.”

 

“No one is talking to you like this.”

 

“You don’t need to treat me like that. I’m not crazy, okay?” Disappointed. Heart broken. Tired. Worried. Sad. Mad. Sure. But not crazy. “I’m totally, completely sane. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to blow up this dead body.” Wash quickly set to work, not missing the look of concern that he was sure passed across the other men’s faces.

 

The beeping caught everyone attention. Wash was more than happy about that. He didn’t really want to deal with explained the Alpha anyway. He waited for coordinates. The two blues waiting patiently beside him.

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

“Command, you’re breaking up on me. Please repeat. How what…”

 

“Hold on, I’m not talking to you, Wash. And, and you’re sure? Okay. It’s agent Maine, Wash.” David’s heart stopped beating.

 

“What?”

 

“Please confirm last transmission, Agent Washington.”

 

“Maine?” Wash hoped they were wrong. “How can that be?”

 

“Please confirm, Recovery one.”

 

“Yeah, it’s him. It’s the Meta.” _It’s Michael, and he’s hurt_.

 

“WHAT!?” Church questioned, but Wash ignored him.

 

“Command, give me those coordinates now.”

 

“The Meta is a Freelancer?”

 

“Command. Command, come in.” Wash couldn’t hear anything over his beating heart. “Delta, what’s happening?”

 

“Our transmission is being jammed.”

 

“Tell me you got the coordinates before we lost it.”

 

“A Freelancer!?” Church gapped.

 

“I’m sorry. I did not.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Church continued, uninterrupted.

 

“I did receive biocom data with the identification though. It appears as though the Meta is experiencing massive power fluctuations,”

 

“Power?” _Good Michael wasn’t injured, per se._

 

“Maybe all that AI and equipment can’t run on one suit of armor?” Church finally chimed in with helpful words.

 

“That is an excellent analysis. The Meta is most likely dangerously low on power and will attempt to augment its energy in some way.”

 

“Then we need to get to him… it fast. But where?”

 

“We, uh, we might know where it’s going.” Church offered shyly.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

Delta had been taken. Caboose had been hurt. The Reds had arrived, interrupting his plan. Church was a ghost. And David had been so close to killing the other man. If it wasn’t for Wyoming’s equipment, Wash might have been able to go through with it…. maybe. He told himself he could, but deep down, he didn’t actually know. The bickering between the two sides was driving him insane.

 

“… So have fun. Break some shit.” Wash ordered, as he and Church exited the control room, leaving the others behind. He knew what he had to do.

 

“Here, this is it.”

 

“Whoa. What is this place?”

 

“It’s the storage facility for all the AIs. The reject, the bad variants. Everything is here. Everything.”

 

“Dear Lord, what are all these lights on the walls?”

 

“It’s holographic storage.”

 

“Are one of these things the Alpha?”

 

“You work on closing the door.” Wash ordered, brushing off the Question. “I’ll find what we’re looking for. And when I do, every soldier on base is sure to come running, so be ready.” Wash searched quickly threw the holographic storage. “Church, I got it. Get over here. Here, this is it. There.”

 

“Oh, great, you found it alre…” But Church didn’t finish his sentence. Groaning in pain instead.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing, I just had, like a weird flash.” He groaned again.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah, I think it’s this thing. It’s like sending out images. Is this the alpha?”

 

“No. This is not the Alpha.”

 

“No? Then what is it?”

 

“This is epsilon. This is my AI.” Wash didn’t want to touch it, or be near it really. It had been so painful. The second more painful thing to ever happen to him. 

 

“You’re fucking crazy AI, Epsilon?”

 

“Yes. I thought it was gone. But Delta told you memory was the key. At first, I thought he meant to remember our first encounter. And when I met Delta the first time, what I told him was how he had been encrypted until he could be recovered. When they removed Epsilon from me, he was unraveling, casting off all his thoughts. I was sure they deleted him, but it’s…”

 

“It’s cheaper to store it then it is to delete it. Right?” Church interrupted.

 

“Right.”

 

“But why are we looking for this thing? What’s the point?”

 

“The message specifically said that memory is the key. Delta was telling me that Epsilon is still alive.”

 

“And Epsilon is the key?” Church was clearly confused.

 

“In a way. At the end of the war, things didn’t look good for humans. And there were dozens of projects all trying to come up with the magic bullet to win.” Wash began to explain

 

“Delta was Alpha’s logic. It need to protect itself from analyzing what was happening to it, so it segregated that part of its mind. The part that would be able to understand the horror of what they were doing to it. And when the anger came and threatened to take over, it split that off, too. That was omega, its rage. Gamma was its deceit. Sigma was its creativity. And Epsilon…

 

“Epsilon was its memories.”

 

“And Memory is the key. As they continued to torture it, the Alpha couldn’t keep its sanity and memories at the same time. So it had to purge them. That fragment became Epsilon. And I was just unlucky enough to have it assigned to me.” Wash could still feel the pain, and horror Epsilon brought him.

 

“So you knew? You knew from the beginning what was going on?”

 

“Mostly. They never told anyone what they did here. I got flashes when they put Epsilon in my head. Memories of what the Director did to it. Just like you’re getting now. That’s why Epsilon went insane. It was meant to. It was all the horrible experiences that Alpha needed to shed to survive. And that’s why it had to be removed from me.”

 

“Did they know that you had the memories?”

 

“I never said a word, but they had their suspicions. I would never let them put another AI in my head. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to hide what I knew from another program, which, ironically is what led them to think I could be trusted.”

 

“Well, what do we do with it?”

 

“We take it. And we get it in the hands of someone who can use all this information. Then they can bring down the person responsible for what was done to Alpha, and me, and to my friends.” _To Michael_. “They can take down the director.”

 

“Well, What about the Meta? How do we stop him? Isn’t that the point? I thought only the Alpha could do that. Are we going to find it or not?”

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“After the first attack on Command, they moved it. They knew the AIs would just convince their Freelancers to come looking for it again. So, they put it in a place where they didn’t think anyone could find it.” Wash began to explain everything that he had been piecing together. “You’re an AI. You are the Alpha.”

 

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Church stated, after several long moments of silence.

 

“That’s not the reaction I expected.” Wash looked after him confused. “And we just need to do what's expected of us. Do you think you can…?” But the alarm stopped his sentence.

 

“Oh great!”

 

“What is that?”

 

“We've been found out. Quick, grab Epsilon. I'll lead us out. Keep your head down.”

 

“Okay, but if this fucking thing sends out any more images, I'm gonna throw it in the nearest trash can.” Church quickly grabbed the unit.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

“What the hell was what?” Wash asked. His argument with the reds and blue was tedious, bordering on infuriating.

 

“Come on, do you even need to ask?” Sarge questioned. He wasn’t wrong, he knew who it was.

 

“Perfect.” _Michael_.

 

“Perfect?” Church questioned. The situation didn’t look perfect to him.

 

“He's been following us since I found Caboose. I knew he couldn't resist getting his hands on all the stored Command AIs, Especially Epsilon.”

 

“You knew about this?”

 

“Knew about it? I planned on it. Still have Epsilon?”

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

“Good, let's get it to safety. Then we can finish this. Once and for all.” Deep down Wash knew it would never be over. Not until he was dead.

 

“You know I'm starting not to trust you.”

 

“What do you mean startin' to?” Sarge questioned.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

“Church, put Epsilon in Caboose’s jeep." Wash ordered. He was glad the garage was mostly empty. “You guys are going to make a break for it. Take Epsilon and turn him over to the authorities. They’ll know what to do with him. “

 

“You’re not coming?”

 

“No. Church and I are staying. Project Freelancer had one last resort failsafe: a high power E.M.P. that can wipe out all the AI in this facility. Now that the Meta is here we have a chance to take them all out at once and put this entire project out of commission.” Maybe with the AI in his head, the Meta would be gone. And Wash could get back the one thing he wanted most.

 

“What’s an E.M.P?”

 

“We don't have time for this. You're wrong.” Wash finally settled the argument. It lasted longer than it needed.

 

“Not very democratic.”

 

“Being wrong isn't a Democracy. Church and I will work our way down to the Director's lab while the rest of you escape.” Wash began to explain, but was cut off as Church refused to go.

 

“Wash, I don't give a shit about any of this. I hate you, I hate the Freelancers, I hate everything about you guys. This isn't my fight; it's yours.”

 

“It's your fight more than anyone else's!”

 

“I don't care what you say, no, it isn't.”

 

“Church, you'll never get another shot at fixing all of this. I know you don't believe what I've told you, but you need to ask yourself, what if I'm right? If I am, or if you have any doubts, not finding out will haunt you for the rest of your life. Not just finding out about you but, finding out about everyone close to you as well. It's your choice. What's it going to be?”

 

Wash didn’t have time for this. He had to hurry. Had to save Michael. He had to avenge his friends, and comrades. He had to fix this.

 

<><><><><><><><><> 

 

“I just hope there's enough time.” Wash sighed as he ran back into the base. The two Jeeps were quickly away. He would fix this and everything would be good again. The voice from the system knew who he was. The man’s southern drawl was unmistakable.

 

“The Director himself, I should be honored.” He wasn’t. “I _should_ be.”

 

“Yes, I realize it has been a while since we've spoke, David. May I call you David?”

 

“No, you cannot. You gave me my new name, the least you can do is use it.” Wash hadn’t been David in a long time, not since Michael.

 

“I am certain you have a lot of questions, Wash.”

 

“Just one: How do I turn off this speaker?” Around him the PA Voice warned of the security breech, again. Wash activated the field, just as Maine approached.

 

“Well. The prodigal son returns. Agent Maine you've caused quite a few problems for us. You will **not** be leaving this time.” The Director indicated. Wash scuffed.

 

“I think I've said that myself about twenty times in the last few weeks. Good luck holding him.” David couldn’t even hold on to him when he was Michael. Now, as the Meta, he was unstoppable.

 

“You would be surprised what we are capable of, even from this distance. I suggest you work with us if you expect to survive this.” The Director threatened.

 

“I'm sorry, did something about my actions indicate I expect to survive?” Wash asked. He wasn’t joking. The freelancers and the Director had had taken everything from him. He would die before he let them get away with it.

 

“How did you get those codes?” The director asked, as the failsafe came online.

 

“You might be surprised what I know. Director.” The computer warned again.

 

“It was Epsilon. He inherited the memories, didn't he?”

 

“I've known about what you did since the moment you implanted him in me.” Wash didn’t hide the bitterness in his voice.

 

“Well then I am very sorry Agent Washington, but Project Freelancer no longer has need of your services. Program, disable interior shield.”

 

“What?” Wash questioned. This could be very bad for him. The field went down.

 

“Agent Maine, please kill Agent Washington.” The Director ordered. Wash drew his gun but it was too late.

 

“No, Mik…” The pain brought him to his knees. The beeping filled his ears as the recovery beacon sounded. The world about him blurred, he held loosely to his gun. He could hear Maine’s steps on metal as he slowly approached. But there was nothing he could do about it.

 

“Agent Washington I fear this is one recovery beacon you won't be responding to. Kill him Agent Maine.” Maine stopped, only feet in front of him. Wash couldn’t focus on anything. He heard the words Alpha a couple times.

 

“You know, Meta, why wait?” Wash asked. “Why don’t you meet him, right now?”

 

“Hi, there.” Church’s voice was loud in his ear.

 

“It’s him!” All the little AIs appeared around Michael.

 

“You know I can see why you didn't want anyone else in your head. You got some pretty heavy stuff going on there. I think you need to talk to a professional.”

 

“That's too bad. I just lost my job, and we have great mental health coverage.” Wash said, sarcastically. Trying to brush off the fact that the other was probably right. He hated the idea of Church knowing about his relationship with Michael. He didn’t want to think about Church’s opinion of him, knowing that he loved the man that had kill so many people and himself.

 

“How much time do you need?”

 

“Whatever you can get me. When the E.M.P. goes off...”

 

“When it goes off, I'll be fine. It only affects computers, remember? And I, am a mother fucking ghost.” Just like that Church was done. Without even a goodbye. Wash was alone again.

 

“What's goin' on!?” The director questioned.

 

“Agent Washington, please, there is time. If you would just secure Agent Maine we can discuss this situation, in a more civilized manner.” Wash hated the Counselor’s  voice.

 

“No, we can't.” With the last of his strength, Wash slammed the Activation button on the computer.

 

“Thank you, failsafe initiated. Activating Emp.”

 

“Emp? You have got to be fucking wi…” But Wash didn’t get to finish his sentence. He was thrown backwards by the force of the wave.

 

Around him everything went dark as the base began to shut down. Wash could only hope that the Reds and Blues had gotten far enough away. He hoped they would turn over Epsilon, and the Director would be brought to justice. As he lay there, waiting for death to take him, he turned his attention to where Michael lay. The other man wasn’t moving.

 

“Michael?” David spoke quickly, his voice loud in the quiet, dark space between them. “Mikey….?” Wash tried to reach for him, but he couldn’t convince his arm to move. But that didn’t stop him from trying. “Please?”


	5. Recreation

“Washington, go a call for you.” The guard called. Wash looked around confused. No one had talked to him in… He didn’t know how long. When he woke up, he was in the hospital. Once he could move he was taken to a cell. There was no windows… one real anything. He slept when he wanted to, ate when they gave him food. There was no clock or anyway to tell the time. No one ever talked to him, it was against the rules. 

 

“A call for me? Who even know I’m here?” Wash asked, his own voice sounding odd as after not hearing it for so long.

 

“Came in on your personal, secure channel.” The guards shrugged. “They routed it to us. You can take it in here, if you want.”

 

“Thanks.” Wash headed to the other room.

 

“Three minutes.”

 

“What? Oh yeah. Okay.” Wash hesitated. He didn’t know the rules. It was odd.

 

“This is Agent… Uh, this is Washington. Who's there?”

 

“Agent Washington!”

 

“Oh dear lord. Caboose? How did you even find me?”

 

“You are on my computer screen! I just looked at it!”

 

“No, I mean- never mind. What's going on, are you okay? I haven't heard anything about you.”

 

“Oh yeah, I'm good. How 'bout you?”

 

“All things considered, guess I should be glad to be… alive.” Wash sighed. Alive was good… maybe. He was dumbfounded about the Reds and Blues getting new base. It was unfair that they got so much and all he got was a prison sentence.

 

“Well you can come here and share my base with me. Oh, we need your help! Can you come right away? Can you come help us?”

 

“I don't think that's going to happen.” Wash looked over his shoulder as the Guard approached.

 

“Alright Washington, back in your cell.” he ordered. Wash quickly shut off the communication call.

 

“Guard, I need to see the Commander. Now.”

 

“Yeah right, why the hell would I let you do that?”

 

“Because I think I've just found the missing piece to his puzzle.” Wash smirked behind his helmet. Maybe things might work out after all. He wasn’t in his cell for every long, before the Guard returned. The maze of steel, gray halls were uninviting as he was escorted away.

 

“Alright Washington, the man in charge has agreed to see you. You have five minutes. Do anything aggressive, and I'll shoot you. Do anything weird, and I'll shoot you. Do anything I don't like…” The guard warned.

 

“And you'll shoot me. I got it. I think I've identified the pattern.” Wash said sarcastically.

 

“Talk back again, and I'll shoot you. I don't know why he's even seeing you.” The guard was less then amused.

 

“Because I know something he wants to know.” Wash rolled his eyes at the other man.

 

“Well good for you. You have five minutes.”

 

“Guess I should say thank you?” Wash questioned.

 

“I guess you should get going. Your five minutes already started.” The guard pushed him forward. Wash stood before the massive door. Watching it slowly open.

 

“My dear Agent Washington. I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, do come in. I feel that we have much to discuss.”

 

“I'm sorry, do we know each other?” Wash question, confused.

 

“You are Special Agent Washington. Former member of Project Freelancer. Also, known by the designation 'Recovery One'.”

 

“Also, known as Prisoner 619B.” Wash rolled his eyes, as he stood before the other man.

 

“Convicted, three counts dereliction of duty, eight counts of conspiracy to commit treason, and my personal favorite, seven counts destruction of protected, classified military property.”

 

“And you are?” Wash questioned.

 

“I am someone extremely disappointed by the destruction of said property. That, is all you need to know.” The old man had a stone face.

 

“I wanna make a deal. I have information that you want… and I know where to find them. So, here's the deal: I give you that missing module, you get me out of here. I get a clear slate, and we forget we ever knew each other.”

 

“That sounds fair.”

 

“And I'm gonna need some equipment. Invisibility, overshields, anything left over from Freelancer.”

 

“I think we can point you in the right direction for that. Now Agent Washington, I just have one more question for you.” But Wash wasn’t listening. His attention on all the possibilities. He could run. Run and never come back. He could fight and clear his name. Afterward, he could be free to do whatever he wanted. But mostly he thought about the idea of fresh air, and sunlight. 

 

“Agent Washington? Agent Washington? Are you listening to me?” Wash snapped back into reality.

 

“Hm? Yes. I'm listening.”

 

“Agent Washington, when you find these blue soldiers that you're talking about, what makes you think that they are just going to give you the Epsilon unit when you ask them for it?”

 

“Heh huh. For as long as I can remember, I've been lied to, taken advantage of, shot in the back, and left for dead.” _I lost York, North, and Michael. I have been in prison for, God only know how long. I’m over it. All of it._ “And now, I have a way out of all of this. What in the **hell** , makes you think, that I'm going to ask for it?” The Chairman smirked, evilly.

 

 “You’ll be leaving indelicately. Both of you.”

 

“Both of who?” Wash asked confused. He had missed something. Wash brushed past the Guard, the solider in white looked at him confused.

 

“Take him to armory. He and Prisoner 619A will be leaving within the hour.”  The Chairman ordered.

 

“Prisoner 619A. Are you sure? Sir.” The guard questioned, the fear evident in his voice. Wash looked at him confused.

 

“Get him suited up and ready. Now.”

 

“Alone?”

 

“NOW!” The Chairman ordered. He turned to the other guard. “Armory, now.”

 

“Yes, Sir.” The guard was quickly away. Wash at his heels. _Prisoner 619A?_ Wash wondered who it could be.

 

David almost cried when he say the other man enter the armory. Maine didn’t look any different. The white armor looked undamaged. Wash had so many questioned, but more than anything, he wanted to wrap Maine in his arms forever. He wondered what had happened to his former lover, he had spent hours contemplating where Michael was, what he was doing. If he survived.

 

Wash opened his mouth to speak. But Maine pushed past him, heading to where his Brute Shot rested. The man quickly loaded up his gear. Wash watched him for a long moment. But Maine didn’t seem to notice him. Wash went back his business, loading up his own weapons.

 

Wash adjusted in his seat. Beside him, Maine took the passenger seat. The warthog was one of the newer designs. The cloaking would make their mission easier. If they brought back the Epsilon Unit, they would get out of prison. What they did after that, the Chairman didn’t care.

 

“So… How have you been?” Wash asked once they were off to Valhalla. That’s where Caboose’s coordinated located them. He couldn’t handle the silence any longer. Maine grunted, indistinguishable. Wash sighed. This was going to be a long mission. He parked the vehicle just outside the base. He quickly popped the hook, pulling out the distributor cap.

 

“Find Epsilon.” He ordered, heading one direction, while Maine went the other.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

“Agent Washington. It's Agent Washington.” Simmons was more than grateful to see the gray man as he moved around the rock. The white figure before them was scary, even thought the AI and additional gear.

 

“Who?” Donut asked confused.

 

“Stop right there.” Wash ordered. He needed information, before The Meta killed them. 

 

“Yes, we're saved!” Simmons said triumphantly.

 

“Stand down, I'll take it from here.” Wash ordered. His only response was a Swooshing noise from the man. His heat broke a little. “I said BACK OFF!” He ordered again.

 

“What, what's happening?” Simmons asked confused. There was another long moment, as the two freelancers stood at odd. Maine lowered his weapon, moving away from the others. Inside Wash sighed.

 

“Where is it?” Wash wanted this mission to be over.

 

“Where's what?” Simmons asked confused. His fear steadily growing. “Why aren't you two fighting?

 

“The Epsilon unit, I know you have it. Give it to me.” Wash was tired of this game. 

 

“Pensé que éste su amigo?” _‘I thought this guy was your friend?’_

 

“Wait wait wait, you're working with ...the Meta?” Simmons was confused.

 

“Don't. Make. Me. Repeat. Myself.” Wash warned.

 

“Qué se está entendiendo?” _‘Would someone explain what's going on?’_ Lopez asked. But no one get a change to answer whatever question they thought he had just asked. Wash’s bullet landed in the middle of Lopez’s forehead. He crumbled.

 

“Oh my God! He just shot Lopez!” Donut said. But he didn’t get to say more either. The bullet passes through him, shattering the glass of the jeep behind him.

 

“Donut?” Simmons asked, in shock

 

“Hey, Simmons? I think he shot me too.” His body landing in a light-red pile in the grass at Simmons’ feet.

 

“Donut! No! Donut, Donut are you okay? Come on, breathe Donut, breathe. Why did you do that? What's wrong with you?” Simmons asked, angrily and scared. “No, Donut, come on, stay with me! Stay with me Donut! Don't just stand there! Help?”

 

Wash didn’t move. He was glad he was wearing his helmet. He wouldn’t want Simmons to see how much this pained him. Beside him, Maine stood, unmoving. They watched as the man tried to save his dying friend. It was no use. Donut was dead. Wash brushed away the feel of guilt in his stomach. He had been in Simmons' place before. It wasn't a fun place, watching your friend die.

 

“Call for a medical officer.” Wash ordered.

 

“What?” Simmons questioned, confused. His voice broken with emotion.

 

“Call for a medical officer. Now!” Wash ordered again. He shifted his pistol, placing it in the brim of Simmons’ helmet.

 

“Command. Come in Command. This is red base. Come in command. I need a medical officer. Now! Please. Hurry.” Simmons spoke quickly. Maybe, they could get to Donut in time.


	6. The Recollection Revelation

“Hey, down here, we're over here! Hey, come down here!” Simmons called to the Purple guy at the top of the rock.

 

“Holy cow, Simmons! Is that you?” Doc questioned.

 

“Oh, hey Doc. Man, I didn't know they'd send you.” Simmons felt guilty.

 

“Yeah, we got the radio call and I was the closest medic so they sent me. But I didn't know it'd be you guys! Small galaxy, huh? Man, we got a lotta catching up to do. So what's up, somebody hurt or what? What's going on?”

 

“Him.” Simmons motioned to Donut, still laying the grass.

 

“Him? Um, he's dead.”

 

“Yeah, he is. He was shot.”

 

“Um, Simmons, I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, and I have increased my skill as a medic in that time, but dead is still pretty much outside my jurisdiction.”

 

“Man, I just didn't know they'd send you.”

 

“Yeah, you said that already.” Doc replied, suspiciously. “Hey is everything okay with you?”

 

“It's not my fault Doc, I… I had to make the call, they made me. They needed someone with medical training.”

 

“What're you talkin' about?” Doc asked, a fear setting in to his voice.

 

“I didn't mean for you to get involved, I'm sorry, really.” Simmons sounded broken.

 

“Sorry about what?” Doc questioned his attention following Simmons view. He turned to find two men, he didn’t know, standing before him. Their guns at the ready. “Uh oh.”

 

“He's sorry about us.” Wash clarified quickly. In front of him, Maine lunged forward, quickly knocking the two men out. “Why did you do that?” Wash questioned. Michael had always been a gentle giant. Never hurting anyone, unless he had to or it was part of the mission. His new attitude unsettled Wash. “Now we have to carry them, they could have just walked.” Wash sighed. Most days it seemed like a losing battle.

 

Wash groaned as he lay the maroon man down. He had to sling Simmons over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He was taller and heavier than Wash. It was a struggle getting him to the top of the base.

 

 Beside him, the Meta tossed the Purple man down without as much as a huff or grown. Like the other man was light as a feather. Wash rolled his eyes, trying not to feel sad remembering how the other man would carry him so easily. The pained noise that the taller man made caught his attention. Maine’s hand pressed tightly to his helmet.

 

“Maine?” Wash questioned. He was quickly before the other man. “What’s wrong?” The man growled in reply. “Here, let me look.” Wash took the man’s wrist lightly. The taller man pulled away. “Enough!” Wash ordered. The other man stood tense for a long moment, before moving his hands. Wash quickly unhooked the helmet.

 

Wash didn’t know what to think at seeing the man after so long. Michael hadn’t changed that much. He looked tired, bags hung under his eyes. His hair was longer then Wash had ever seen, even though it was only an inch or so. The scars along his face distorted the left side. Scars ran along his neck. Wash stopped himself, as he reached for the man. In that moment, all he wanted to do was feel the man’s skin under his. But he couldn't, that relationship had changed, died a long time ago. 

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Wash ordered, trying to be curt with the other man. Maine only growled in response, his eyes looking anywhere but at Wash. “Well… were does it hurt?” The Meta held tightly to the sides of his head. He made a pained sound.

 

“Ok. Let me look.” Maine hissed at him. “LET. ME. LOOK.” Wash ordered again. The taller man moved his hands, he lowered his head almost in shame. Wash did a quick examination. The line of scars ran alone his neck and the base of his skull. Wash know it was from the AI implants. He kept his touches light as he ran his hand along the pink skin. His attention turned to the tattoo on the back of the man’s head.

 

“What…? Michael… What? ” Michael never had that before. “Did Sigma…?” Wash asked. Maine quickly pulled from him, hissing. “Alright.” Wash held his hands up, in surrender. Behind him the other men groaned as they woke.

 

“I’ll have the medic look at you when he wakes up. Alright.” Wash offered the man back his helmet. Maine quickly took it, standing straighter once he slipped into its cover. Wash looked after him sadly. It seemed Michael was only confident when he was the Meta.

 

Behind him, Simmons stirred, beginning to wake. Wash sighed, it was time to get back to work.  Simmons woke slowly, grumbling and groaning something, Wash paid him little mind.

 

“What… What?” Simmons questioned but fell silent as he noticed the tall figure in white. He held tightly to his gun, even though it was out of bullets. He crept away, placing his back to the wall.

 

Wash sighed again. It wasn’t Simmons fault that Caboose was an idiot and had kept the Epsilon unit. But it didn’t matter, they all would pay the price, just like he had. The purple one quickly shifted, and woke. But Wash’s concern was taken by the man beside him. He held tightly to the Brute Shoot, his armor sparking. He made a pained sound.

 

“You two, quiet.” Wash ordered, his full attention on the man before him. The Meta starts glitching, his armor going in and out of focus. He made a pained sound. Wash could only guess what was happening.

 

“Then you need to stop trying to use all of them. You just don't have the resources anymore.” Wash hated the idea that the other man was putting himself in harm’s way, just to use the equipment. Without the AI units, Michael wasn’t strong enough to work the equipment on his own.

 

“Halt. Meta, stop!” Wash ordered as Maine moved to the purple man. Wash had been too caught up worrying to listen to the other men’s conversation.

 

“Wyaa! Simmons, help me!” Doc pleaded.

 

“You, what did you just say?” Wash placed himself between Maine and the medic.

 

“Tht… tht… tht… tht… tht…That I had one of your AI units?” Doc clarified. The largest of the men make an uncomfortable sound.

 

“Stand down. You said had.” Wash was getting the hang of translating Maine’s grunts. “Where is it now?” he asked the purple one.

 

“Gone.” His voice shook.

 

“Which one?”

 

“Uh, uh ub, the mean one.” Doc stammered.

 

“Its name. Did you know its name?”

 

“Uh, O'Malley. I mean uh, Omega.”

 

“Well that one's been accounted for.” Wash sighed. He had hoped that it might lead them to where Epsilon might be.

 

“I… I only had it for a short time.”

 

“Well then good. You know what to look for. I need a complete scan of my friend here. And I would recommend you don't use any needles. He hates needles, and we wouldn't wanna make him angry, now would we?”  Wash sighed again. The purple one stepped forward on shaky legs. Maine hissed as green light focused on the man. Wash and Simmons took a step back, as a precaution.

 

“Come in Valhalla Outpost Number One. Come in! Red Base, do you read me?" The voice called over the radio, pulling Wash’s attention. “Come in! Give me some more power, shotput.”

 

“Simmons. Now. Respond.” Wash ordered. “Don’t say a word about me… or the Meta. Just use short, simple sentences, we wouldn’t want to confuse them. Understood?” Wash jabbed the other man in the side with this rifle.

 

“Ow! Yes, I got it.” Simmons hit the button on the com and began talking. Wash kept his gun fixed on the maroon man. “Okay good. Now get back over there.” Wash ordered once the conversation was over. He pushed the man as he went. Simmons faltered.

 

“Doc. What did you find out in your scan?” Wash asked when Doc retreated from the other man.

 

“Uh, it's hard to say. He's added so much non-standard equipment to his armor I can't really get a good reading on him.”

 

“I didn't want you to run an intelligence report on him, I wanted a medical one.” Wash rolled his eyes.

 

“His power systems are stressed from trying to maintain it all. Is he missing some component that controls all this, er…?”

 

“Physically, is he fine, physically?”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“Good. Next time, answer the question I ask. I'm watching you two. Give me any trouble, and you're dead. Don't believe me? Ask your buddy about his friend, Donut.” Wash warned, annoyed. He returned to stand beside the other man. Maine’s attention was focused on the grass area outside of the base.

 

“Hey, you alright?” He questioned. Maine didn’t respond. “Doc says you’re okay. Physically. Strained. Tried. Maybe? When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?” The Meta hissed and shrugged. “Maybe that could be the problem.” The Meta hissed at him. Michael always did hate when David complained about him not getting enough sleep.

 

“I’ll find a way to help you. I promise.” He rested his hand lightly on the other’s arm. For a long moment, Maine allowed it. It was nice. It was a simple connection, both trying to reassure the other.  “Well, when this is over. After we’re returned Epsilon, we can take a vacation. A long vacation. Somewhere warm. We can sleep in as late as we want. No more armor, or orders, or Artificial Intelligen….” A voice called him from his fantasies. Maine pulled from him, his attention turning from the other. Wash tried not to feel sad.

 

“Oh Simmons... Simmons! Where are you? Yoohoo!” Maine hissed. Wash brought up the sigh of his gun. The red one stood not far away, called for the Maroon one.

 

“Looks like just one of them.” Maine hissed. “I don't know if he has it. I can't see from this far.” Maine growled. Wash know what he was asking. “No, you stay here, guard these two. I'll go out there. If he gives me any trouble… just kill the prisoners and come help me.” Wash ordered, before jumping into the grav-lift. He landed not far from the red guy.

 

“Maroon One, Maroon One, where are you?”

 

“Great. This guy.” Wash rolled his eyes. He was still convinced that the other man was insane. Then again, he was convinced that they were all insane. “Freeze! Stay where you are. Turn around.” Wash ordered, his gun at the ready

 

“Well, well, if it isn't our good buddy Agent Washington. And just what're you doing here?

 

“Don't play dumb with me Sarge. I think you know why I'm here. Where are the rest of your guys, where's Epsilon?”

 

 “Someplace safe.”

 

“You can either tell me, or you can tell the Meta, back at the base.”

 

“The Meta is here?”

 

“Yes. And he really wants a chance to repay you guys for all the trouble you caused him.”

 

“I seem to recall you caused him some of that trouble yourself.”

 

“Situation's changed.” Wash gritted his teeth. The meta had caused him more heartbreak and sadness than Wash had reciprocated. “Now drop your weapons.” With a hesitation, the other man dropped his gun. Wash quickly scooped it up.

 

“Just so you know, I'm gonna want that back in a minute.” Wash rolled his eyes.

 

“I said drop your weapons.” After several second of debate, Sarge dropped several pistols. “Good. Now march.”

 

“Son, you can insult me. You can ambush me. You can even take away my weapons. But if you think I'm gonna set one single pinky toe inside of Blue Base? Without my shotgun... you must not know who you're dealin' with.” Wash rolled his eyes. The man before him still didn’t seem to understand. There was not RED or BLUE. They were all just training bases.

 

“I said move.”

 

“And I said, shotgun.”

 

“Yes. I have your shotgun.” Wash looked after the man confused.

 

“No, I mean SHOTGUN.”

 

“What is this?” Wash asked confused. “You think I'm gonna give you your shotgun because you asked?”

 

“I said, shotgun! Shotgun dammit!” Sarge yelled loudly. The voice from the other side of the wall caught Wash’s attention.

 

“What? Wait, what're you up to? What's that noise? Do I hear a...” Wash didn’t get to finish his sentence. “CAR!” He tried to jump away, but it was too late.

 

Sarge drove clear as the jeep landed hard against Wash’s armor. Inside his helmet, Wash’s alarm rose, warning that his shield was damaged significantly. Wash held onto the front of the jeep, by his fingertips. He struggled to pull himself up. This muscles screaming in pain. But his will to live kicking in. If he let go, he would be killed by the rear tire. He groaned in pain, as each bump jarred his body. He struggled up the hood.

 

“Uh oh.” Grif watched as the Freelancer pulled himself onto the hood. Wash began firing, as soon as his foot was securely wedged between the hood and the tow hitch. Around him the glass shattered, flying as he destroyed the windshield. The jeep’s movements became sporadic as Grif dodged the bullets. His hands no longer on the wheels as he dove for cover.

 

Wash didn’t like the feeling of fly. Not unless it involved Michael inside him, bringing him to completion. Wash didn’t like flying, especially when he was being launched from the hood of the vehicle. He tried not to think of the impact that awaited him. The rocky ground a hard welcome.

 

Instead he focused on shooting. He got off several shots, shifting the shotgun in his hand. He didn’t expect the hand the grabbed the barrel, pulling it from him. He allowed himself a sound of confusion as Sarge regains his gun. The confusion turns to pain as Wash landed hard in the rocky basin, Ssiding to a stop among several tanks.

 

“Huh. H-uh. Nuh, Wuh.” Wash groaned as he wobbled back to his feet. The tank beside him wobbled as he supported his weight. His legs swayed. He stumbled, almost falling. His eyes were blurry, and his head was ringing. He was sure he had a concussion. It took him a long time to focus on the jeep as it approached.

 

“Agent Wash?” Sarge stood from his seat, his gun pointed at the glowing yellow propane tank Wash still leaned against

 

“Son of a bitch.” Wash knew what was coming.

 

“You just got…” Wash didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. The tank beside him exploded, sending him flying. He curled into a ball, hoping his armor would protect him. Wash didn’t know how long he was out. But when he woke, his head was spinning. His armor buzzed and blinked, his shielding almost gone.

 

“What…?” He questioned, looking around confused he was several yards away from the scorched ground of the explosion sight.

 

A dark shadow loomed over him. Wash looked up to see Maine. He could only think about how Michael looked looming over him. Maine extended a hand, pulling him to his feet. Wash’s legs were wobbly. If it wasn’t for the other man’s strong hands, he could have fallen. Wash allowed himself to be held, feeling the strong arms that had once kept him so close. But Maine pulled from him hissing. Wash followed the other’s gaze, the reds and an odd floating thing stood on the other side of the blue base’s wall. Maine was quickly away, Wash followed him on shaky legs.

 

“Get them Meta! Get them!” The reds had Epsilon. The sooner he found it, the sooner it would all be over. But they did get the chance, just before they reach the wall, a laser crumbled the wall, blocking them in. Wash sighed. _Why can’t anything be easy?_ Beside him, Maine growls.

 

“Don't worry, we'll find them again. We just need some leads. And I know exactly who to ask.” Wash turned his attention to blue base.

 

“You know what, get him out of there, I can't talk to him like this.” Wash ordered. Doc was still stuck in the wall. The Meta groaned, before trying to pull to man loose.

 

“What're you… stop it.” Doc groaned in pain as Maine pulled at him. Maine groaned, unable to move him.

 

“What? Well, try pulling harder then.”

 

“Be gentle! Be gentle!” Wash scuffed. Gentle wasn’t really Maine’s strong suit.

 

“Grab lower, near the center of gravity.” Wash suggested, amused to watch.

 

“He's got cold hands.” Doc complained.

 

“Try the codpiece.” Wash offered. Maine stopped, giving him a cross look. He growled in response. “Oh, we're all adults here.” Wash rolled his eyes. Maine growled again, making a gesture toward the Doc. “No I don't wanna try.”

 

“Don't repress your feelings.” Doc called as Maine headed for the gravlift.

 

“I can't interrogate him like this, it's ridiculous. I can't believe I have to deal with this.” But Maine was already gone. Wash headed for the edge of the base. “What're we gonna do!?” He called down to the man. He watched Main grab the tow hook, and toss it onto the base, the cable trailing behind it. “Hmm, that might work.” Wash smirked. He hooked the cable around Doc’s codpiece.

 

“Um, are you sure this is a good idea!?” Doc questioned.

 

“Alright, give it a crank.” Wash called to Maine. The cable slowly straightened. “More power, come on, give it some gas.” Wash ordered as Doc didn’t move. Almost there, just a little more...” Doc’s body arched from the wall. Wash allowed a spark of hope. But that was shattered as the wall crumbled, the slap of concrete landing hard on the steel of the base.

 

“HELP!” Doc’s cry of pain was muffled as he landed face first, the wall atop him.

 

“Well. That's just great.” Wash sighed. He wasn’t even surprised. Together he and Maine moved the panel of the wall (With Doc still inside) from the base and into the grass. Wash was blank on any ideas how to get the man out.

 

“Come on, can't you get him out of there? He's just stuck in a few rocks.” Maine hissed in annoyed reply. “Why can't anything ever be easy? Doc, I want you to tell me everything you know about the Reds and Blues.”

 

“You know more than me, I just got here.” Doc argued.

 

“Hit him.” Wash ordered. Maine lunged forward, more than happy to comply.

 

“Oah!”

 

“You worked with them before. Do they have any hideouts? Anywhere they go when they're in trouble?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“Hit him again.” Wash was tired of playing around. Maine lunged forward again.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Did Simmons say where Sarge and Grif were? You can either answer me, or I can have the Meta beat it out of you. Or, I can beat it out of you.” Wash kinda liked the idea. He was tired and angry. Hitting something or someone sounded like a great way to get out the tension he was feeling. “I think I've earned it.”

 

“Man, you guys are really awful at the Good Cop/Bad Cop thing. You're like, Bad Cop/Even Worse Cop.

 

“Tell you what Meta, let's just shoot him in the chest, see if we can pull the audio logs out of his helmet.” Wash was done with the purple one’s game.

 

“Uh-ah- he said something about a distress call!”

 

“Hit him again.” Maine growled, content with the previously suggested plan of just killing the man,

 

“And sand! H-he mentioned sand!”

 

“Sand...?” He contemplated the idea. He had an idea. He remembered getting a recovery beacon from a desert. He hoped it was the same location. He quickly ran through his logs. “Alright. Let’s go.”  Maine grunted at him, motioning to Doc. “No, we need him.” Wash looked around, quickly finding the cable from the jeep. He quickly hooked it around the cement slab. He passed the cable to Maine.

 

“Alright, let’s go.” Wash ordered, heading after the recovery beacon. The other man hissed in confusion.

 

“I can’t do it. You’re stronger than me.” Maine hissed again. “If you don’t think you can do it, and it’s to heavy…” But Maine growled against the challenge, beginning to pull the panel along. Wash smirked.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

“The recovery beacon leads here. It's weak, but I can still pick it up.” He checked and rechecked the beaked location. “...Here. Meta. Dig.” Maine groaned in frustration. 

 

“Hey, I'm not gonna argue with you about this.” Wash hated the desert. “You want a chance at that A.I.? I track, you dig. Otherwise, you can wander the desert by yourself, and see if you find him on your own.” Wash released how harsh he sounded. Once upon a time, when David would get lippy, Michael would pin him down, and fuck him until all the tension in his body was done. But Wash didn’t see that happening. Maine argued in a growl.

 

“Because I found the signal. You dig. We all have to pull our own weight.” Maine hissed, looking over his shoulder at the panel he had just gragged for miles. “Right, and other people's weight too…” Maine looked at him, unamused. “Just dig.” Maine hesitated before digging. Wash stepped aside, moving so Maine would have room to work.

 

“Man, some people just can't take orders. Am I right?” Doc questioned, optimistically happy for someone stuck in a wall.

 

“Shut up, we're not friends.” Wash snapped. Wash grew more frustrated with each word the purple guy spoke.

 

“Yeah, this might be a bad time to tell you that I'm sinking then.”

 

“...I hate you.” Wash sighed.

 

“I know.” Doc sounded as defeated as Wash felt. But his attention was taken my Maine’s growl as he stopped digging. Wash looked confused at the figure he say in the sand.

“What the- is that C.T.? That's impossible, what's she doing out here?” Wash asked to himself, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. He ignored Doc’s question. His attention taken by Maine’s anxious sound. 

 

“Don't bother. She didn't get an A.I., remember?” Wash thought for a moment. He had like Connie, she was nice. In the end, she had been right, about everything. Seeing her now, his was a little heartbroken. “Scavenge her for equipment, see what you can...” The noise behind them caught his attention. The four Aliens didn’t seem happy. He sighed. “...find.”

 

“Well, this is just fuckin' great.” Doc stated quickly. He wasn’t wrong. Wash raised his weapon, but before the battle began, Doc quickly began talking. It was a language Wash didn’t know. He and Maine looked after the other man confused. The conversation didn’t last long, soon all four aliens were away.

 

“What just happened?” Wash asked confused.

 

“Get me out of this wall. I can help.” Doc ordered. Wash debated for a long moment.

 

“I have an idea.” He headed back to Doc. Maine looked after him confused. He quickly followed Wash, curious. “Alright Meta, get ready. Fire!” Wash tosses one of the plasma grenade, and the Meta fires one from his brute shot. The wall around the other man crumbled.

 

“Huh, well that actually seemed to work.” Wash shrugged. He half expected to have killed the other man. In the back of his mind, he wondered why that didn’t both him.

“...Ow!” Doc groaned

 

“Doc, how do you feel?”

 

“Uh okay I guess, all things considered- hey does anybody know where we can find a good medic?” Doc asked sarcastically.

 

“I don't get paid enough for this.” Wash rolled his eyes and headed after the aliens. Meta groaned, unamused following behind him.

 

“Geeze, tough room.” Doc hesitated before following also.

 

“I don't like this.” Wash said. He watched the four aliens with caution.

 

“Look, I talked to them. They're gonna draw us a map and show us where Epsilon went. After that you can let me go.

 

“You sure that's what he's doing?” Wash looked at the sand confused.

 

“Well, my Alien to English is a little rusty. I would suggest we get one of those translator balls, but we got enough jerks around here already.” Maine growled, not amused.

 

“I agree. We should just kill most of them, the last one left alive will talk.” Wash interrupted the man’s sound

 

“Wash, you just can't kill everybody you meet.”

 

“Why not?” Wash questioned. His voice dark, even why his own standards. Doc said something, but Wash payed him no mind. The alien separated quickly, catching his attention. He approached were the one had been standing. The alien made an almost laughing like sound. Wash look unamused at the stick figure.

 

“What does it say? What does it say?” Doc asked excited.

 

“It says peace talks have broken down.” He raised his weapon. “Now we do it our way.” Maine understood. He quickly shot off several grenades. Doc dove out of the way.

 

The fight didn’t take long. Wash took two, while Maine took the other two. Wash fired quickly, jumping over one fallen body, to get to the other wounded alien. The desert wind the only sound he heard as the aliens lay dead before them.

 

“Well, so much for the ‘leave one of them alive’ strategy.” Wash sighed. He got carried away. Wash quickly took the guns and ammo from the bodies. “Doc, where are you?”

“Here!” Doc called, his voice shaky.

 

“Still alive? I thought maybe you'd been killed in the battle.” Wash was impressed.

 

“No, don't worry, I'm still alive.”

 

“I didn't say I was worried. Get down here, see if any of these things are still breathing.”

 

“Me?” Doc hesitated.

 

“You're a medic, get… medical.”

 

“I'm a human medic. I don't even understand Alien physiology.”

 

“I want you to see if they're alive. I don’t want you to check their cholesterol levels, just get down here!”

 

“Jeeze, fine. What's with the anger?” Doc offered, but quickly hurried away. Wash rolled his eyes, headed stepped aside, where Maine was. “Meta, you search the camp. See if you can find anything useful for us. Any clues where Epsilon went.” Maine groaned in argument. “Don't start with me. I've already reached my tolerance level for management issues.”

 

“He's getting fussy.” Doc approached quickly.

 

“Tell me about it.” Wash sighed. He watched Maine disappear into the cavern. He half listened to Doc as the purple one rambled on. “This is a military mission. We don't get a vacation. We don't take sick days, we don't get paid overtime.” The moto had been burned into his brain. The Director had made them repeated it over and over again.

 

“What, Freelancers don't get overtime?” Doc questioned.

 

“That's right, we have a job to do and we're expected to stick wit… wait. Why… do you?”

 

“Get overtime? Yeah. Time and a half over forty hours, time and a half and a half after sixty.”

 

“…Real?”

 

“You guys don't get that? That's crazy, you work so hard.

 

“Tell me about it.” Wash sighed. A vacation did sound nice.

 

“You guys should strike.”

 

“We're not unionizing. Stop instigating.” Wash snapped.

 

“... Tell me they at least match your 401K?” Doc asked

 

“SHUT UP!” Wash ordered. His attention turned from the cavern, Maine’s hissing rising eerie from the darkness. Wash was quickly over to the entrance. “What did you find, Meta?” The grenade landed less than five feel from him.

“Hey! Watch it.” Wash ordered. “Meta, come out here, now.” Maine only growled in reply.

 

“Doc, get in there and see what he found.”

 

“Which Doc, there's a, is there another Doc here? I know you're not talking to me. Yeah, you know, probably better if you go in? Historically, I don't really have the best success rate going in caves. They tend not to work out for me.” Doc stood beside him, looking into the darkness. Neither of them could see anything.

 

“Tell you what: put me back in the wall, I like the wall. It was cozy and it protected me. I miss my wall.” Doc pleaded.

 

“You, are utterly useless. I know we brought you along for a reason but for the life of me I can't remember what it is. Meta, get out here! Please!” Meta growled in reply.

 

“Boy, he sounds tense. Maybe you should give him a backrub. That wouldn't be weird, right? One Freelancer giving another a backrub?” Doc offered. Wash rolled his eyes.

 

“Fine. Just… Stay here.” Wash ordered before wondering into the darkness. It was hard to see, but Wash could easily recognize the white armored figure. “Meta? Maine? Mike? What’s going on?” Wash kept his voice low, his motion slow. He approached the taller man quickly.

 

Maine quickly pinned him to the wall. Wash dropped his gun, not struggling. Maine was only inches from him, his hand tight around Wash’s neck. They stayed in silence for a long moment, their body pressed together. Wash struggled not to think of the last time Maine had been so close. His voice faltered.

 

“Mikey…” Maine only growled in reply. Wash didn’t understand why it turned him on so much. “Mikey… tell me.” The hands were harsh as they pulled off his helmet. He struggled to unhook the helmet around the taller man’s head. He rested their foreheads together, once he had.

 

“Mikey.” Wash ran his hand into the other man’s hair. He brushed their noses together. It was the closest they had been in so long. Wash ran a thumb along the man’s cheek, along the scars. Maine hissed, brushing away the man’s hand.

 

“Mickey, don’t…” Wash whispered, his voice loud in-between them.  “… Don’t pull away from me.” Maine hissed, it rumbled in the space between them. Wash pulled him forward, their lips barely brushing before Mike pulled away. “Mikey.” Wash tried to pulled the man forward, but Michael was having none of it. He pulled away quickly. Mine hissed, trying to communicate.

 

“Listen, Mikey. Whatever you found, we can deal with it, I promise. Just show me what it is.” Maine pulled away. He grabbed his helmet from where it had fallen. Wash looked after him saddened. Wash quickly replaced his own helmet.

 

“Fine.” He ordered quickly. his hand landing hard on the Meta’s armor. Maine stumbled, falling forward. Wash was quickly out of the Cave.

 

“What did he find?” Doc asked.

 

“I don’t know, he won’t show me.” Wash lied.

 

“Look out!” Doc ordered, grabbing Wash’s arm, pulling him down just as something went flying over their head.

 

“Whoa!” Wash yelled startled.

 

“Daen- funky buttlovin'!” Doc also yelled. A hiss from the cave caught both their attention. Maine's armor sparked. Wash almost felt guilty.

 

“Oh. You found... that. Don't get excited, it's empty.” Meta hovered over it.

 

“What is it?” Doc asked confused.

 

“This is the Epsilon unit.”

 

“This is what you've been looking for?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Not what I was expecting. I mean I like the colour, but other than that, nihh...” Doc shrugged. Wash rolled his eyes.

 

“Clearly they transferred Epsilon into that floating thing we saw.”

 

“You saw a floating thing?” Doc questioned, intrigued.  

 

“I'm not hallucinating, Meta saw it too.” Wash clarified. Beside him, Maine hissed. “Oh, yes you did! Don't even try that.” Wash glared at the other.

 

“Wash, do you see the floating eyeball now? Is he here with us?” Doc asked, condescendingly.

 

“Don't psychoanalyze me.” Wash ordered, annoyed. Doc continued to talk, but Wash had other matters to attend to. “Shut up. Meta, let's convert this to a recovery unit. But be careful, this thing looks like it's in bad shape.” The unit sparking in the sand. Meta was quickly over to the unit and began working.

 

“What's he doing?

 

“This is a storage unit, but we're trained to modify them. We can change a storage unit into a capture unit. That way, the next time we see Epsilon, he won't get away.”

 

“Are you talking about the regular Epsilon, or the Epsilon who's just a floating head and visits you when you're alone.

 

“I'm not crazy…” Wash snapped, more on edge now then he had been before his and Maine’s slip up in the cave. “And it was just the eye that was floating around, not a whole head.” Wash clarified.

 

“Yes Wash, because the whole head is what makes it crazy.” Doc said still condescending. Wash glared at him. Maine hissed, catching their attention. “Great, he's done.”

 

“Why is it sparking like that?”

 

“This thing's been through a lot, it's pretty badly damaged. But now that it's a capture unit we just need to get it near Epsilon, and we can pull him in.”

 

“What if it breaks?”

 

“Don't worry, it'll hold until we get him.” Wash had faith in Maine’s abilities. “After that, it doesn't matter. It can short out for all I care.”

 

“Then what's the point of all this?”

 

“I just have to deliver Epsilon to the Chairman. I don't have to guarantee what condition, I deliver him in.” _Then I can be done_. _Gone_. “He's just evidence anyway. Meta, grab him. Doc, get ready to move.”

 

“Move, move where? We don't know where they are.”

 

“We know they're not here. So, gather your gear, and get ready to move out.” Wash ordered again.

 

“Well, can we track them?”

 

“Track them?”

 

“You know, pick up a trail, like footprints.” Doc offered.

 

“Footprints… In the desert?”

 

“I don't special agents have the ability to track their targets through any kind of terrain? Follow broken tree branches…”

 

“Tree branches... In the desert?”

 

“Okay these are bad examples. Maybe heat signatures.

 

“In the desert?” Wash asked, unamused.

 

“Like exhaust trails? I dunno.” Doc shrugged.

 

“Tell you what. Why don't you just stick to not understanding medicine? Don't feel the need to expand your sphere of ignorance.” Wash ordered, sarcastically.

 

“Fine, jeez, I'm just trying to help.” Doc rolled his eyes, moving away from the freelancer. Meta growled, questioning. His gaze following after the purple guy.

 

“Him? Ah, he's always whining about something.” Wash hesitated to ask is next questioned. “Hey Meta, is there any way we could track the Reds by trying to pick up a trail, like an uh, heat signature or something?” Meta hissed. “Yes. I know we're in the desert.” Wash rolled his eyes, and was quickly away. He need to see what gear he could find.

 

He wondered around the base, several times. The desert sun was nice, comparative to the prison. But the cold steel walls still invaded his thoughts. If he didn’t find Epsilon, he didn’t know what he was going to do. He wouldn’t go back. He would do anything to stay out of prison. But his thought returned to now as he watched Maine. He was busy at work, beating on one of the alien carcasses.

 

“Doc, do you have a second?” Wash asked, as the passed by him.

 

“I'm a prisoner Wash. I have nothing but seconds.”

 

“Right, good point.” Wash could see the logic there.

 

“I mean you don't even need to ask. You can just be like _‘Hey, Prisoner Number One, come over here 'n' talk to me.’_ “ Doc tried and failed to mimic his voice. Wash was unamused. “rrr-I'm a Freelancer-rrr."

 

“Okay, I get it.” Wash ordered, stopping the man.

 

“Yeah, you really need to step up your hostage-taking skills.”

 

“Stop lecturing me, or I will shoot you, and feed you to the Meta.” Wash stepped up his hostage taking skills.

 

“Does he eat people?” Doc asked, fear in his voice as he watched the tall man beat the dead alien.

 

“Do you really wanna find out?”

 

“No!... Maybe. If we used another person sure. Looks kinda interesting.”

 

“You've spent some time with him now. What's your diagnosis?”

 

“Of who? The Meta?”

 

“Yes, pay attention to what's being said.” Wash ordered annoyed.

 

“Testyyy... Based on what you've said he's just under powered. He has a bunch of equipment and he can't use it now.”

 

“That's because he lost all his A.I.” Wash sighed. It was his fault that Michael was struggling, dying.

 

“What happens if he uses them without the help of the computer program?” Doc asked.

 

“Let's just put it this way: it ain't pretty.” Wash hoped that Maine wouldn’t be so stupid and kill himself using to much equipment at one time. But his attention taken by the beeping in his helmet. “What is that? Where is that coming from?” He hadn’t dealt with a recovery beacon in so long. He didn’t recognize it. On the screen of his helmet, coordinates quickly appeared. “It can't be.” He looked at them confused. Below the edge, Maine growled.

 

“I'm getting it too. I should have known he might end up there.” Wash knew the location

“What is it?” Doc asked confused.

 

“It's a recovery beacon. It's him; it's Epsilon.” Maine growled, excited. “Doc, go get a vehicle. Meta, you grab the memory unit.”

 

“But where are we going?”

 

“We're going to the only place that's left.”

 

“…. Yeah, that clears it up.”

 

“Just go get a damn vehicle!” Wash ordered. Doc was quickly away. Maine approached him, unit in hand. “I know, but don’t get excited. We still have a long journey. We’ll get him, give him to the Chairman, and be done with this war. Just you and me.” His hand resting on either side of the man’s helmet as he rested their helmets together.

 

“Are you guys…” Doc asked confused. He fell silent, watching them. “Am I interrupting something?”

 

“No.” Wash said as Maine hissed. “What do you want?”

 

“All the jeeps are broken… are we walking or can you fix one.” Wash sighed. It was always something. Reluctantly, he pulled from the man, following Doc to the vehicles.

 

“So…?” Doc offered, trying to initiate the conversation.

 

“Shut up!” Wash ordered.  

 

They didn’t talk as they drove. Wash contemplated all that had happened. Maybe Michael was bleeding though. If Wash tried, he might be able to bring the man back. If they got Epsilon, Wash was sure he could get Michael and himself out of this mess. He would take Mike away, get him the help he needed. The weather grew cold and Wash knew they were close. They were quickly approaching the beacon.

 

“There he is.” Wash looked confused at the scene before him “Something doesn't seem right here. Stop the car.”  Doc stopped the car. “I don't like this. How did he get hurt, why isn't anyone helping him?” At the gunner position, Maine hissed, cautiously. “You're right, this is a trap. Those walls there, perfect for a sniper. We walk in to where he's hurt and suddenly, we're boxed in, nowhere to go.” Wash cuffed when Doc assumed it was the reds. No, this was an actual strategy.

 

“Yeah, but if a Freelancer set this up, wouldn't they know that you guys were Freelancers, and that you would recognize this as soon as you saw it?”

 

“…No…. You’re just over thinking it.” Wash stood beside the Car. The snow brushed past his helmet. It had been a long journey. It had been hard working with the Meta. Even without the AI systems in his head, Michael had never returned. His brain corrupted, changed by all the voice that had tainted his mind. The beeping caught their attention. “Son of a bitch.” Wash sighed. He knew what was coming.

 

“Told you so.” The purple one smirked, only just making it out of the warthog before it went flying through the air.

 

The blue sky was blurry as Wash blinked awake. His hands were bloody, and took a long moment to come into view. Not far away, the warthog was flipped. Doc lay beside it, Wash didn’t know or really care if he was alive. He searched, unable to see Michael. His heart stopped. A figured came into view, blurry and out of focus. He wanted to call out, he wanted Michael. But even in his state, he know that the dark figure wouldn’t have been the man he wanted.

 

““can’t believe… Tex..?” He questioned. ‘Tex is bad. Tex is the enemy'. His brain acted without thinking. He reached for the gun, which seemed miles away. The weight on this injured hand was painful as she ran heel into his wrist. Stopping him. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

 

“Don’t sound so disappointed. You’ll make me cry.” The gun in his face was unwelcome, but not uncommon as of late. “Where's the Director?”

 

“The Director? How would I know what?”

 

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Wrong answer.” Tex tightened her finger on the trigger. Wash held his breath. This was the end. Maine’s body cracked as he ran, hard, into the woman. They both went flying. Wash took a deep breath, allowing himself a long moment before joining in the flight. He extended the capture unit. He would get Tex back where she belonged. He almost went over the cliff, diving after it.

 

“Is that a…” He asked, getting his answer as Tex hit the button, bringing down the glazier wall.  He dodged the woman’s flying fist. Only to have capture unit fly to the ground. “Mik… Meta, take it here.”  Wash almost slipped. Fighting with the man at his side once more, it was so much like the old days. Even after all the years apart, everything that happened, they still fell into sync so well together. Wash could almost see a glimpse of the man that once was. But even together, they were no match for the woman.

 

“Oh My God. RUN!” Wash ordered. The fear evident in his voice as the ice below them shook and began to break. They ran. Reaching the edge as the cliff quickly drifted from range. “Meta wait. Mik… God damn it!” David watched the man as he lunged from the falling ice. Wash watched as Maine embedded his falling weapon into ice cliff. His hands barely making it. Wash hated how reckless the other man could be, holding on barely by his fingertips. Using it, Maine was quickly up the cliff.

 

“Wash, here take this!” Doc called, the tow hook in his hand.

 

“Throw it! Throw it!”

 

“Here it comes….” Doc’s words died in his mouth as hook slid down the side of the cliff.

 

“You’re got to be kidding me.” Wash sighed. The Meta was safe on the ledge, having pulled himself up. Now, Wash had to worry about himself. He slammed hard into the ice, his hand barely catching the hook. He gowned, as he pulled himself up. “That was the second worst throw. EVER. Of all time.” He groaned, pulling himself up.

 

“What do you want from me? I ran track in high school.”

 

“Meta! Wait.” Wash was quickly over to where Michael and Text fought. He cringed as the woman landed the blade into the man’s back. He didn’t seemed phased. “We don’t need to hurt her… we…” But it was too late.

 

Tex’s body shook as the man sank the capture unit into her. He threw aside her body like it was nothing. Wash was glad no one would see the horror he that was on his face. The man he knew once, he had once loved would never have be so careless. So dark. So broken.

 

“What! No! STOP! Let her out of that thing!” Church ordered.

 

“We can’t. The unit is failing. Epsilon, it’s over.” He allowed a moment of sobering silence. “You’re coming with us.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere with you. We can fight you.”

 

“We can?” Doc questioned, uncertain.

 

“We will.”

 

“Ah, great.” the Purple one sighed.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Wash wasn’t sorry. “Meta, give me the memory unit.” He hated giving the other orders. Having to treat Maine like a dog, just so that he would follow ordered. “Meta?” He questioned. He finally turned his attention to the man. He recognized the hesitation in his former lover’s body. “Meta! NO! DON’T….!”

 

Watching Michael was like watching an addict. He needed another AI. He need that power once more.

 

“Dammit!” As the man’s armor shifted and turned invisible, David knew, Michael was officially gone. Lost to him forever. “Doc, you have to protect Epsilon.” Wash knew the Meta’s next target.

 

“Wha… What do I do?” Doc’s voice trembled with fear.

 

“RUN!” Wash ordered as the butt of the Meta’s rifle landed against his helmet. Wash ended up in the snow once more. “I’ll try to hold him.”

 

Wash jumped onto the taller man’s back. Wash recalled their wrestling matches many long ago. Michael was always stronger then him, and would pin him down. His reward would be a kiss. Now, he was just getting thrown into the snow. Again. He rolled, quickly dodging the grenades the gun launched at him. His own pistol missing as he fired. Maybe it wasn’t the pistol’s fault. 

 

“I knew you would do this, Meta.” The figure, looking over him wasn’t Michael anymore. “I just can’t believe… can’t believe…”

 

 _‘Can’t believe you’d do this to me. I love you, you loved me. We could have been so much more. You were the most important person in my words. But you chose to give it all up. And for what? Some stupid computer system to run some stupid armor. What about when the fighting is over? What then? We could have had something. A life. A real life maybe even a family. I loved you. I can’t believe you’re give all that up. Give me up.’_ At least that’s what Wash wanted to say.  Instead, his attention was taken by the plane flying (crashing) right towards them.

 

“I can’t believe it.”  He managed to say. He jumped out of the way, just as the plane dug into the snow before him. He went one way, Michael that other.

 

“Well, that was a close one.” Doc emerged from behind the ship. 

 

“I would say that’s the cavalry, but I’ve never seen a line of horse crash into the battle field from outer space before.” Wash said hoping to use sarcasm to distract from his heavy heart. If it wasn’t for the crash landing, the man he loved would have probably killed him.

 

“Is it possible for a memory fragment from an artificial intelligent program closed inside a robot body to piss its pants? Because I’m pretty sure I just did that.”

 

“Come on. Let’s see how many of your friends survived that.”

 

“You know, they’re not really my friends.” Inside his helmet, Wash rolled his eyes.

 

“That’s okay, I’m sure none of them really survived.”

 

“Has anyone seem Tex?” Church asked. Not even really acknowledging the others.

 

“I’m sorry, Epsilon, the Meta captured her in the memory unit.” Wash sighed. It saddened him that Michael’s betrayal wasn’t really a surprise

 

“There it is!” Church approached the failing unit in the snow. “She’s here.”

 

“Epsilon, there’s nothing me can do. She’s stuck in there.” Wash did feel sorry for the other. Church held onto Tex the same way he was holding onto Michael.

 

“Just let her out.”

 

“We rigged it so it’s one way. We didn’t want you to escape again.” 

 

“Well… unrig it!”

 

“I need to get it to a lab, somewhere with tools.” He wished it would be that easy to get Michael back.

 

“Simmons?”

 

“Hey he’s the expert. I don’t know what I can do to help.” Simmons shrugged.

 

“It’s in no condition to move. If it locks down before I can open it, she’ll be trapped in there.”

 

“We should try something.”

 

“If I let her out, you have to come with me.” Wash ordered. He was done. He would turn Epsilon over, and be done. He was take off the armor, and never put it on again. He was getting out, alone.

 

“YES! FINE! Just get her out.”

 

“Caboose, Tucker. Head into the base, see if you can find some tools.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

 

“You three, find me anything that has power. Anything and everything.” Wash barked his orders. “We are going to need a lot to keep it online.”

 

“On it.” The three reds disappeared across the snow.

 

“I can get her out.” Church chimed in quickly.

 

“What? No.” Without Epsilon, Wash had nothing to bargain with. He would go back to jail.

 

“It’s my only option.”

 

“I need you, Epsilon.” Wash admitted. He hated needing others. “You’re my only ticket out of this mess.” God was it a mess. “If you get stuck in there, they’ll never believe me. I’m not going to back to prison.”

 

“I can do it!”

 

“No. I won’t let you.”

 

“You can’t stop me. I have to help her. She’s here because of us.”

 

“…Because of me?”

 

“No. Us. Me and Alpha. And the Director.”

 

“You started to remember.” Wash stated. The other wasn’t wrong. A lot of things were wrong because of the Alpha and the Director. Tex, Wash, York, Maine and the others. It was all because of the Director.

 

“I found some journals from the Director. She’s someone from his life. Someone He loved.”

 

“Allison. Her name was Allison.” Wash understood. He did. Church loved Allison, the same way he loved Michael. But those people were none.

 

“Allison.” Church rolled the name on his tongue. “When they made Alpha, she came back. She was the byproduct of the process.”

 

“She’s just a shadow.” Like Michael and the Metta.

 

“Don’t call her that! She died in her real life, and that’s all the Director every remembered of her. So, now, no matter how tough she is, no matter how hard she fights, she’s always going to fail.” Wash contemplated the words. _Allison was destined to fail, just like David was_ _destined to be alone_ _._

 

“Because that’s what she’s based on. No matter what she’s doing, or what she’s trying to accomplish. Just when her goal is in her reach, it gets yanked away. Every. Single. Time. Can you imagine what that’s like?” Wash really could. He had seen so many glimmers of the man he once loved, however each time the Meta would take over once more.

 

Wash didn’t get to say anything, and Church fell silent as the capture unit began to move. They both watched as the Meta stood, his armor moving in and out of focus. Deep down, Wash was happy, glad that Michael was still alive. But that turned to fear as the large man turned his attention on them.

 

“I think I’m getting the idea.” Wash sighed. He was so close to the man, but the man was so far away from what he once was.

 

“Uh-oh.” Church mustered to say. They jumped, but Church couldn’t get away from the grenade at his feet. He went flying. Wash headed the other direction, drawing the Meta’s attention with a few key placed bullets. The larger man hissed, before following Wash across the cold plains. Wash continued to fire, The Meta’s hissing only growing louder as the mosquito bullet shots annoyed him.

 

Wash rolled, the knife in his hand blocking the Brute Shot as the larger man swung it down at him. He swung up, the knife slicing into the gap in the Meta's armor. The blood painted the snow red. Wash tried not to think about it. It wasn’t Michael, after all. He punched, but the other rolled away.

 

He hesitated a second, waiting for the shimmer of the man’s armor. He threw the knife, halfheartedly hoping he would miss. The blade stuck fast in the man’s shoulder. Wash was just a split second slow, the grenade ending up at his feet before his bullets disturbed the other. Wash groaned as he sat up in the snow, his head throbbing.

 

“Yeah. GET HIM!” Sarge yelled, in victory as they arrived at Wash’s aid.

 

“We’re going to fucking die!” Gif yelled. The commotion catching the Meta’s attention. Wash was more than a little grateful. He was still dazed. Without them, he would have probably died. He watched at the three red and a blue came to his rescue. But they were no match for the Meta.

 

“It’s like wrestling a bear!” Gif said as he was thrown from the man’s back. Wash could sympathize. They blocked, shot, jumped on him, and even Tuckers sword wasn’t a match for him. He still kept coming.

 

“Wash, come on. He needs help.”

 

“I can’t.” Wash admitted. Because even after everything, he wouldn't help them kill Michael. “I’m done.” Wash was tired and sad. His heart hurt. “Here, take this. You know what to do.”

 

“Come here, you big son of a bitch.” Sarge ordered, reloading quickly. Four shots, and the Meta had the red solider by his neck. “Hey, Grif, I’ve lost my shotgun. What am I going to do without my shotgun?” Wash rolled his eyes. If this didn’t work. He didn’t know what would. “Shotgun, Damn it!” Wash watched the other two spring into action.

 

“Hey, Meta, settle a bet, would you? Does that thing kinda look like a big cat to you?”

 

Wash’s heart stopped as the warthog went over the cliff, the Meta following close behind it. Wash didn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He didn’t care, as Grif hung over the edge of the cliff. He didn’t care as Epsilon disappeared into the memory unit. He lay in the snow, struggle to survive. None of that matter. Nothing mattered. Michael was gone, and so was everything David cared about.

 

"Is he dead?" Tucker asked. Wash fazed in and out if consciousness.

 

"Not quite." Doc indicated. Around him Wash could make out several red and blue and a purple helmet.

 

"So, are you going to kill him, or help him? 'Cause, I don't think I've ever actually seen you help anyone."

 

"That's not true!" Doc questioned.

 

"Name one person you helped."

 

"Well..." Doc contemplated.

 

"Just kill me." Wash orders his voice broken. He wanted to sleep, forever. His will to live gone.

 

"Why would we do that?" Sarge questioned.

 

"No... Can't... Go back to... Jail." The pain in Wash's intensified. He didn't know if it was from the bullet wounds or his broken heart. "Without Epsilon... Prison… Just kill me." He pleaded.

 

"I think I can get the bleeding under control." Doc indicated quickly.

 

"Mmmm... I've got an idea. Doc, patch him up. The rest of you, help me out." Tucker quickly ordered. The red and blue disappeared.

 

Wash remember sleeping. He didn't know how long. He had been out, but the sound of helicopters pulled him from his slumber. He looked around confused, unsurprising when he saw the UNSC soldiers entering onto the scene. He sighed, it was back to prison for him.

 

"Hey, you're awake." Tuckers voice caught his attention. The aqua armored man extended a hand to him. Hesitantly, Wash allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

 

"What...?" He questioned, looking confused at the blue armor he wore.

 

"Be cool. If anyone asks, your name is Church. Leonard Church." Tucker ordered quickly, a hand on Wash's forearm led he to where the others stood, waiting. Wash looked around confused, as he saw his body laying not far away.

 

"Just, be cool." Tuckered order again, as the soldiers approved them.

 

“… And this guy. The Chairman will not be happy he’s dead.” The soldiers said. They had been briefing the reds and blues for almost an hour. Wash looked to his armor disappointed. He loved that gray color. “I think he wanted to debrief him personally. Oh, well.” Wash didn’t even want to think about the punishment that would be waiting for them if he would have met the Chairman after losing Epsilon.

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Yeah, that’s too bad.” Caboose mumbled.

 

“Well, be sure to let him know we’re sorry.” Wash lied. _New armor, new life and no prison_. Wash thought. Agent Washington was dead in the snow bank beside him. This was his change to start over.  

 

“Whatever. You’re free to go. If we need you, we know where to find you.” The eye roll was apparent in the soldier’s orders.

 

“Why are you guys helping me?” Wash asked, once the soldier was out of ear shot.

 

"It wasn't our idea. Ask him." Sarge motioned to the blue guy.

 

"Tucker?" Wash looked at Tucker suspiciously.

 

“You helped us, Wash. It only makes sense.” Caboose explained, walking away. Tucker hesitated, unmoving.

 

“Yeah. Plus, we need to even the teams.... And I couldn’t put up with Caboose constantly asking, _‘Can we keep him? Can we keep him?’_ ” Tucker hurried after the blue one.

 

“For whatever its worth, thanks.” Wash followed after the others. He wasn’t lying either. After everything that had happened, he liked the idea of being on a team, even if was just out of pity.

 

Wash didn’t say anything as he drove them back to Valhalla. He had found a jeep in the hanger. The soldiers were so distracted by the Red’s steeling their plane, that the blue slipped away without anyone noticing them. Caboose was once more complaining about having to pee, even though they had pulled over seven minutes ago. In the passenger seat, Tucker sat rather stoically silent. Wash wondered what he was thinking about, but he couldn’t get the gumption up to ask.

 

Instead he turned his attention to the fact that Michael was gone. Officially gone. But David had to keep reminding himself; that thing wasn’t Michael. Michael was dead, killed by the Meta and now the Meta was dead. Dying along with David’s revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contemplating a possible series. 
> 
> Wash/Tucker maybe? Maybe add in some Grif/Sarge or Sarge/Simmons? 
> 
> All depending on the success or failure of this work.

**Author's Note:**

> I claim rights to ALL third party characters and/or idea not limited to story/plot but excluding any rights to main and/or secondary characters within the franchise, and claim on the franchise itself.
> 
> Estimated Friday/Saturday chapter updates. This allows me to have the week to write, as a way to escape homework, my job and basically life. On rare occasions more than one chapter maybe be uploaded. Chapter may also end in cliffhangers.


End file.
